!" I sobbed, "it has been burned off!"

"Ay," he returned, in all gentleness, covering the awful sight. "Yet
were they gladly given for Christ's sake."

"I doubt that not," gazing in wonder at his girlish face. "But tell
me, who were guilty of such fiendish cruelty--the savages of this
tribe?"

"Two months ago it was done in the valley below, in the village of the
Natchez," his eyes again upon the crucifix. "Yet dwell not upon it,
Monsieur, for it is so little I can hope to do for the glory of God.
It may be I am not even worthy of martyrdom."

"So the Natchez did that!" the breath hissing between my teeth. "Where
was their gentle-hearted Queen?"

"I know not, Monsieur, if they have a Queen. I saw none exercising
authority excepting priests of their strange worship. It was the chief
priest who held me in the flame."

I crushed back the hot, useless words burning on my lips, and turned to
look at the Puritan. We had conversed in English, and he must have
comprehended every word, yet there was no softening in the glint of his
hard, gray eyes.

"Hear you the priest's story, sirrah?" I asked, feeling strong
inclination to vent my spleen on him for such bull-headedness. "Is he
not one to honor rather than pick a quarrel with in such place as this?"

"'T is no quarrel I seek, nor am I like to question the fanatical
courage of a Jesuit. But I tell you his teaching is false, an outrage
on the true religion of the saints, and I am of a strain which can
never companion with any of that black-robed breed. Call me what ye
please, Master Benteen, but I am too old a man, too long indoctrined in
the faith, ever to acknowledge brotherhood with hirelings of the Romish
church."

"Companion with whom you please," I retorted savagely. "But I tell you
this, preacher, and once for all,--you 'll bear yourself like a human
being to this poor lad while I 'm with you, or else make answer to me.
Is that plain? I care nothing for your dogma, or your hair-splitting,
but I know what fair play is between man and man,--ay, and mean to have
it here, even if it costs you a split head."

"I beg you will both be at peace, Messieurs," broke in the soft,
caressing voice at my elbow. "There can be no cause for comrades
quarrelling over me. I am not worthy a ruptured friendship. Yet I
fail to understand any occasion for your seeming trouble; has the older
man some reason to distrust my robe?"

"Reason! Saint George! 'tis precious