d come abreast. It required severe shaking, his
sleep being that of sheer exhaustion, yet he proved sufficiently a
trained soldier to obey instantly my signal for silence. Nor were
words needed to explain the reason, as by this time the sound of oars
was clearly audible. Suddenly some one spoke, apparently at our very
side. Lying as I was I noticed the shawl pushed hastily down from
Madame's face, her brown eyes gazing questioningly across into my own;
yet, with rare self-control, not so much as a limb quivered.

"I tell you, _padre_, there's nothing along this cursed cane-marsh,"
growled a deep rumbling voice in Spanish. "It is a mere bog, in which
a man would sink to his armpits, were he to venture outside the boat."

"Bog it may be," retorted a sharper, petulant voice, the sound of which
was oddly familiar, "but I tell you this, Senor, 'tis on this very
shore French gallants come hunting from New Orleans. There is dry land
in plenty beyond the fringe of reeds."

"_Saprista_! there may be, as there may be water in Hell, but I 'll
never tangle my boat amid that mass of cane to make its discovery. Let
the frog-eaters have it, say I; the saints bless them. Come, pull away
sharply, lads, and we'll see what the shore-line looks like above."

The sound of dipping oars instantly increased in rapidity.

"You are one pig-headed fool of an officer, Senor," snarled the sharp
voice contemptuously.

"Mother of God!" roared the other, enraged. "Speak so again, you dog
of a French priest, and even your gray robe will not save you from
tasting the mud at the bottom. Do you want to know what I think of
you? Well, I 'll tell you, you snivelling, drunken singer of
paternosters--you did more to help that fellow escape than you 'd care
to have known. Now you 're trying to hold us back until he has time to
get safely away up the river. That's my opinion of you, you snarling
gray-back, and if you dare breathe another word, I 'll give orders to
chuck you overboard."

"Where do you purpose going?" ventured the cowed priest, in a subdued
tone.

"Straight up the stream. That's where your cursed Frenchman has
disappeared so swiftly, unless the guard at the North Gate shot him, as
they swear to O'Reilly. So sit there quiet, and hold your tongue--you
may command the Devil, for all I care, but I 'm in charge of this boat."

The sound of angry controversy died away in the distance. Cautiously I
lifted my eyes to the level o