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32X

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

i2mo. Paper, 50

The Trespasser.

cents; cloth, $1.00.

"Interest, pith, force, and charm -Mr. Parker's story
possesses all thesis qualities. . . . Almost bare of syn-
thetical decoration, his paragraphs are stirring because
they are real. We read at times- as we have read the
great masters of romHnce— breathlessly. . . . In Mr. Parker
we feel that a prophet has arisen, and we hope for him
great and greater years " — The Critic.

" Gilbert Parker writes a strong novel, but thus far this
is his masterpiece. ... It is one of the great novels of the
year," — Boston Adzertiser.

"... A picturesque, imaginative study." — Han Fran-
cisco Chronicle.

" ' The Trespasser ' tells a thoroughly interesting story
with great spirit and admirable literary skill. The charac-
ter drawing is notably clever." — Boston Saturday Even-
ing Gazette.

The Translation of a Savage.

i2mo. Flexible cloth, 75 cents.

"A gracefully and effectively written and very clever
story by a very clever writer." — New York Commercial
Advertiser.

" Unique in plot and subject, and holds the interest
from the first page to the last " — Detroit Free Press.

" A story of remarkable interest, originality, and in-
genuity in construction," — Boston Home yournal.

New York : D. Applkton & Co., 7a Fifth Avenue.

THE

TRAIL OF THE SWORD

GILBERT PARKER

AUTHOR OF

THE TRESPASSER, THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE,
PIERRE AND HIS PEOPLE, ETC.

NEW YORK

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

1894

COPTRIQHT, 1894,

By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY.

DEDICATION.

Mr DEAR Fa thee:

Once many years ago, in a kind of despair^ you were
impelled to say that I would never be anything but " a ras-
cally laivyer." Thia, it may be, sat upon your conscience,
fo^ later you turned me gravely towards Paley and the
I'hirty-nine Articles ; and yet I knoiv that in your soldier^s
heart you really pictured me. how unavailingly, in scarlet and
pipe-clay, and with active sabre, like yourself in youth and
manhood. In all 1 disappointed you, for I never had a brief
or a parish, and it was another son of yours who carried on
your military hopes. But as some faint apology — I almost dare
hope, some recompense — for what must have seemed wilfulness,
I send you now this story of a British soldier and his " dear
maid " ; which has for its background the old city of Quebec,
whose high ramparts you walked first sixty years ago, and for
its setting the beginning of those fightings, which, as I have
heard you say, "through God^s providence and James Wolfe
gave England her best possession."

You will, I feel sure, quarrel with the fashion of my cam-
paigns and be troubled by my anachronisms ; but I beg you to
remember that long ago you gave my young mind much distress,
when you told that wonderful story, how you, one man, "sur-
rounded " a dozen enemies, and drove them prisoners to head-

(iii)

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

quarters. " Surrounded " may have been mere lick of precision,
but it serves my turn noiv, as you see. You once were — and I
am precise here — a gallant swordsman : there are legends yet of
your doings with a crack Dublin bully. Well, in the last chap-
ter of this tale you shall find a duel which may recall those early
days of this century, when your blood was hot and your hand
ready. You would be distrustful of the details of this scene did
I not tell you that though the voice is JacoVs the hand is an-
other's. Swordsman are not now so many, in the Army or out of
it, that among them Mr. Walter Herries Pollock's name will
have escaped you; so, if you quarrel, let it be with Esau;
though, having good reason to be grateful to him, that would
cause me regret.

My dear father, you are travelling midway between eighty
and ninety years with great health and cheerfulness ; it is my
hope you may top the arch of your good and honourable life
with a century keystone.

Believe me, sir.

Your affectionate son,

Gilbert Parker.

A NOTE.

The actors in this little drama played their parts,
on the big stage of a new continent, two hundred
years ago. Despots sat upon the thrones of France
and England, and their representatives on the Hud-
son and the St. Lawrence were despots too, with
greater opportunity and to better ends. In Canada,
Frontenac quarrelled with his Intendant and his
Council, set a stern hand upon the Church when
she crossed with his purposes, cajoled, treated with,
and fought the Indians by turn, and cherished a
running quarrel with the English Governor of New
York. They were striving for the friendship of the
Iroquois c - the one hand, and for the trade of the
Great West on the other. The French, under such
men as La Salle, had pushed their trading posts west
ward to the great lakes and beyond the Missouri, and
north to the shores of Hudson's Bay. They traded

(V)

TUE TKAIL OF THE SWORD.

and fought and revelled, hot with the spirit of ud ven-
ture, the best of pioneers and the worst of colonists.
Tardily, upon their trail, came the English and the
Dutch, slow to acquire but strong to hold ; not so
rash in adventure, nor so adroit in intrigue ; as fond
of fighting, but with less of the gift of the woods, and
much more the faculty for government. There was
little interchange of friendliness and trade between
the rival colonists ; and Frenchmen were as rare on
Manhattan Island as Englishmen on the heights of

Quebec — except as prisoners.

G. P.

CONTENTS.

EPOCH THE FIRST.

CHAPTER

I.— An Envoy Extraordinary .

II.— The Threat of a Renegade
III.— The Face at the Window.
IV.— The Uplifting of the Swords

V. — The Fruits of t'ie Law .
VI.— The Kidnapping .

PAOB

13
27
37
47
55

EPOCH THE SECOND.

VII. — Friends in Council . ^
VIII. — As SEEN through A Glass Darkly
IX. — To THE Porch of the World
X.— Qui Vive! ....
XI. — With the Strange People
XII. — Out of the Net .

EPOCH THE THIRD

Xlir. — " As Water unto Wine " .
XIV. — In which the Hunters are Out
XV. — In the Matter of Bucklaw
XVI. — In the Treasure House .
XVII.— The Gift of a Captive .
XVIII. — Maiden no more .

(vii)

69
93
104
111
125
135

150
165
172
188
201
208

Vlll

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOKI).

El'OCII THE EOUUTH.

CHAPTER VAOM
XIX.— WlIKH TKLLS OF A BrOTHER's BlOOD CRYINO

FROM TiiK Ground , ^ . . , . 217

XX.— A Trap is Set 280

XXI.— An Untoward Messenger 244

XXII.— From Tiuer's Claw to Lion's Mouth . , 255

XXII I. —At the Gates of Misfortune .... 259

XXIV.— In wiuuH the Sword is Sheathed . . . 2G4

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

(ffpocl) tlic i:ir0t.

CHAPTER I.

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY.

One summer afternoon a tall, good-looking strip-
ling stopped in the midst of the town of New York,
and asked his way to the governor's house. He at-
tracted not a little attention, and created as much
astonishment when he came into the presence of the
governor. He had been announced as an envoy from
Quebec. " Some new insolence of the County Fron-
tenac ! " cried old Richard Nicholls, bringing his fist
down on the table. For a few minutes he talked with
his chamber-fellow, then, " Show the genileman in,"
he said.

In the room without, the envoy from Quebec had

stood flicking the dust from his leggings with a scarf.

(1)

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

Ho was not more than eighteen, his face had scarcely
an inkling of moustache, but he had an easy upright
carriage, with an air of self-possession, the keenest of
grey eyes, a strong pair of shoulders, a look of daring
about his rather large mouth, which lent him a man-
liness well warranting his present service. He had
been left alone, and the first thing he had done was to
turn on his heel and examine the place swiftly. This
he seemed to do mechanically, not as one forecasting
danger, not as a spy. In the curve of his lips, in an
occasional droo:-) of his eyelids, there was a suggestion
of humour ; less often a quality of the young than of
the old. For even in the late seventeenth century,
youth took itself seriously at times.

Presently, as he stood looking at the sunshine
through the open door, a young giri came into the
lane of light, waved her hand, with a little laugh, to
some one in the distance, and stepped inside. At first
she did not see him. Her glances were still cast back
the way she had come. The young man could not fol-
low her glance, nor was he anything curious. Young
as he was, he could enjoy a fine picture. There was a
pretty demureness in the girPs manner, a warm pi-
quancy in the turn of the neck, and a delicacy in her

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY.

gestures, which to him, fresh from hard hours in the
woods, was part of some delightful Arcadie — though
Arcadie was more in his veins than of his knowledge.
For the young seigneur of New France spent far more
hours with his gun than with his Latin, and knew his
bush-ranging vassal better than his tutor ; and this
one was too complete a type of his order to reverse
its record. He did not look to his scunty lace, or
set himself seemingly ; he did but stop flicking the
scarf held loose in his fingers, his foot still on the
bench. A smile played at his lips, and his eyes had a
gleam of raillery. He heard the girl say in a soft,
quaint voice, just as she turned towards him, " Foolish
boy ! " By this he knew that the pretty picture had
for its inspiration one of his own sex.

She faced him, and gave a little cry of surprise.
Then their eyes met. Immediately he made the most
elaborate bow of all his life, and she swept a grace-
ful courtesy. Her face was slightly flushed that this
stranger should have seen, but he carried such an
open, cordial look that she paused, instead of hurry-
ing into the governor's room, as she had seemed in-
clined to do. In the act the string of her hat, slung
over her arm, came loose, and the hat fell to the floor.

* THE TRAIL OP THE SWOED

J-tantl, he picked i.„p,„,

had spoken a word u Neither

"•^- --.e a:\:r trr r ^^ *^"

"-=-ht on the instant ho. drol.t ' "' '""^

-'^ ^'-aid to hi. na^e,; r" ' r ''^^ '"^''^''•
the governor? yo„ „„ i' '^°"'"'^« """ne to visit
. , ""' " ^'■«''«i"nan, are you „ot v "
lo th,s ,n slow and carefm English " I -, k
plied ; " I havp ^«™ , ° '^"' "s," he re-

"Do not go yet," he said. "Tell m«
governor's daugh ter ? " ' """^ ^°" *''«

She paused, her hand at the door « Oh n » ,

--ered; then, in a sprightly way- are

ernor's son ? " "^ ^^® ^^" a gov-

" I wish I were," he sairl « f .1

-'^ intendant. an he^r 'ut ;. Tl ''''"' '' '
council." ^ ' ^'""^ P''™' in the

MVhat is an intendant?" she asked "«.n^ . •
Nick Perrot ? " "^Kea, and who is

"^^■-•'-intendantisan,anwhon.KingUuis

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY.

appoints to worry the governor and the gentlemen of
Canada, and to interrupt the trade. Nicolas Perrot
is a fine fellow and a great coureiir de bois^ and helps
to get the governor out of troubles to-day, the in-
tendant to-morrow. He is a splendid fighter. Perrot
is my friend."

He said this, not with an air of boasting, but with
a youthful and enthusiastic pride, which was relieved
by the twinkle in his eves and his frank manner.

" Who brought you here ? " she asked demurely.
" Are they inside with the governor ? "

He saw the raillery; though indeed, it was nat-
ural to suppose that he had no business with the
governor, but had merely come with some one. The
question was not flattering. His hand" went up to his
chin a little awkwardly. She noted how large yet
how well-shaped it was, or, rather, she remembered
afterwards. Then it dropped upon the hilt of the
rapier he wore, and he answered with good self-pos-
session, though a little hot spot showed on his cheek :
"The governor must have other guests who are no
men of mine; for he keeps an envoy from Count
Frontenac long in his anteroom."

The girl became very youthful indeed, and a

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

■

merry light danced in her eyes and warmed her
clieek. She came a step nearer. "It is not so?
You do not come from Count Frontenac — all alone,
do you ? "

" I'll tell you after I have told the governor," he
answered, pleased and amused.

" Oh, I shall hear when the governor hears," she
answered, with a soft quaintness, and then vanished
into the governor's chamber. She had scarce entered
when the door opened again, and the servant, a Scots-
man, came out to ^ay that his excellency would re-
ceive him. He went briskly forward, but presently
paused. A sudden sense of shyness possessed him.
It was not the first time he had been ushered into
viceregal presence, but his was an odd position. He
was in a strange land, charged with an embassy,
which accident had thrust upon him. Then, too, the
presence of the girl had withdrawn him for an instant
from the imminence of his duty. His youth came
out of him, and in the pause one could fairly see him
turn into man.

He had not the dark complexion of so many of his
race, but was rather Saxon in face, with rich, curling,
brown hair. Even in that brave time one might

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY.

safely have bespoken for him a large career. And
even while the Scotsman in the doorway eyed him
with distant deprecation, — as he eyed all Frenchmen,
good and bad, ugly or handsome, — he put off his hesi-
tation and entered the governor's chamber. Colonel
Nicholls came forward to greet him, and then sud-
denly stopped, astonished. Then he wheeled upon
tlie girl. "Jessica, you madcap!'' he said in a low
voice.

She was leaning against a tall chair, both hands
grasping the back of it, her chin just level with the
top. She had told the governor that Count Fronte-
nac had sent him a lame old man, and that, enemy or
none, he ought not to be kept waiting, with arm in
sling and bandaged head. Seated at the table near
her was a grave member of the governor's council,
William Drayton by name. He lifted a reproving
finger at her now, but with a smile on his kindly
face, and " Fie, fie, young lady ! " he said, in a
whisper.

Presently the governor mastered his surprise, and
seeing that the young man was of birth and quality,
extended his hand cordially enough, and said, " I am
glad to greet you, sir ; " and motioned him to a seat.

I-

i' a
1

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

** But, pray, sit down," he added, " and let us hear
the message Count Frontenac has sent. Meanwhile
we would be favoured with your name and rank.'*

The young man tlirust a hand into his doublet
and drew forth a packet of papers. As he handed it
over, he said in English, — for till then the governor
had spoken French, having once served with the
army of France and lived at the French Court, —
"Your excellency, my name is Pierre le Moyne of
Iberville, son of Charles le Moyne, a seigneur of
Canada, of whom you may have heard." (The gov-
ernor nodded.) " I was not sent by Count Frontenac
to you. My father was his envoy : to debate with you
our trade in the far "West and our dealings with the
Iroquois."

" Exactly," said old William Drayton, tapping the
table with his forefinger; "and a very sound move,
upon my soul."

"Ay, ay," said the governor, "I know of your
father well enough. A good fighter and an honest
gentleman, as they say. But proceed, Monsieur le
Moyne of Iberville."

" I am called Iberville," said the young man sim-
ply. Then, "My father and nijself started from

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY. 9

Quebec with gc^d Nick Perrot, the coureur de

bois "

" I know him too," the governor interjected — " a
scoundrel worth his weight in gold to your Count
Frontenac."

"For whose head Count Frohtenac has offered
gold in his time," answered Iberville, with a smile.

"A very pretty wit," said old William Drayton,
nodding softly towards the girl, who was casting
bright, quizzical glances at the youth over the back
of the chair,

Iberville went on, " Six days ago we were set
upon by a score of your Indians, and might easily
have left our scalps with them ; but as it chanced, my
father was wounded, I came off scot-free, and we
had the joy of ridding your excellency of half a
dozen rogues."

The governor lifted his eyebrows and said noth-
ing. The face of the girl over against the back of
the chair had become grave.

" It was in question whether Perrot or I should
bear Count Frontenac's message. Perrot knew the
way, I did not. Perrot also knew the Indians."

" Bui Perrot," said the governor bluffly, " would

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

havfc been the letter-carrier; you are a kiud of am-
bassador. Upon my soul, yes, a sort of ambassador ! "
he added, enjoying the idea ; for, look at it how you
would, Iberville was but a boy.

"That was my father's thought and my own,"
answered Iberville coolly. " There was my father to
care for till his wound was healed and he could travel
back to Quebec, so we thought it better Perrot should
stay with him. A Le Moyne was to present himself,
and a Le Moyne has done so."

The governor was impressed more deeply than he
showed. It was a time of peace, but the young m- n's
journey among Indian braves and English outlaws, to
whom a French scalp was a thing of price, was hard
and hazardous. His reply was cordial, then his fin-
gers came to the seal of the packet; but the girl's
hand touched his arm.

" I know his name," she said in the go ;ernor's ear,
" but he does not know mine."

The governor patted her hand, and then rejoined,
" Now, now, I forgot the lady ; but I cannot always
remember that you are full fifteen years old."

Standing up, with all due gravity and courtesy,
" Monsieur Iberville," he said, " let me present you to

AN ENVOV EXTRAORDINARY.

Mistress Jessica Leveret, the daughter of my good
and honoured and absent friend, the Honourable
llogarth Leveret."

So the governor and his councillor stood shoulder
to shoulder at one window, debating Count Fronte-
nac's message: and shoulder to shoulder at another
stood Iberville and Jessica Leveret. And what was
between these at uiat moment — though none could
have guessed it — signified as much to the colonies of
France and England, at strife in the New World, as
the deliberations of their elders.

CHAPTER II.

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE.

Iberville was used to the society of women.
Even as a young lad, his father's notable place in the
colony, and the freedom and gaiety of life in Que-
bec and Montreal, had drawn upon him a notice
which was as much a promise of the future as an
accent of the present. And yet, through all of it, he
was ever better inspired by the grasp of a common
soldier, who had served with Carigan-Salieres, or by
the greeting and gossip of such woodsmen as Du
Lhut, Mantet, La Durantaye, and, most of all, his
Btaunch friend Perrot, chief of the coureurs de hois.
Truth is, in his veins was the strain of war and
adventure first and before all. Under his tutor, the
good P^re Dollier de Casson, he had never endured
his classics, save for the sake of Hector and Achilles
and their kind ; and his knowledge of English, which
his father had pressed him to learn, — for he himself

(12)

THE THREAT OP A RENEGADE.

had felt the lack of it in dealings with Dutch aud
English traders, — only grew in proportion as he Wus
given Shakespeare aud Raleigh to explore.

Soon the girl laughed up at him. " I have been a
great traveller," she said, " and I have ears. I have
been as far west as Albany and south to Virginia,
with my father, who, perhaps you do not know, is in
England now. And they told me everywhere that
Frenchmen are bold, dark men, with great black eyes
and very fine laces and wigs, and a trick of bowing
and making foolish compliments; and they are not
to be trusted, atid they will not fight except in the
woods, where there are trees to climb. But I see that
it is not all true, for you are not dark, your eyes are
not big or black, your laces are not much to see, you
do not make compliments '*

" I shall begin now," he interrupted.
" — you must be trusted a little, or Count Frontenac
would not send you, and — and — tell me : would you
fight if you had a chance ? "

No one bt her sex had ever talked so to Iberville.
Her demure raillery, her fresh, frank impertinence,
through which there ran a pretty air of breeding, her
innocent disregard of formality, all joined to impress,

h.ni

1 1 1'i

i I

1^ TIIK TIUIL OF TliK SWOUD.

to interest him tt« «

"••'», timnks to tl.o great bi«ho„ r """" "'"

ti'o Incarnation I„ " ' ' ""' """ '° """" "'

'•^ '0 >ookin, eheer4 :; : ' ^° ^^"""-' -
"-n his .oat in Unn, Lf , '' " '"" ""^

«-ned, Lis v..nit ' ''' '""""" '^"^ ««"-

"• '"^ ^'""ty was not easily touched S. i ,

'"g with genial dryness « Vn ^.„ " °'^'"'''-

01 course," he said " b ' " '""^ '"'"«™ "'

St. Louis." ""' '"" """ *''« Chdteau

his rep,; °' '^" '' ""^"* ^-'^«''^." -

-t:ot:,!;r/"'"^^"^^*--"--

he gave a «t«e t V /' "" "'"''"^- ^^^^
feove a Jittle start and a low whistle b«-i i.-

slightly drooped, givi„„ hin, , !' '^''"^

SOI' ho said between his teeth »p ^•
Badisson, as I live ! " . ' ^^'""on-

THE THREAT OP A UENEGADE.

IIo had seen a man cross a corner of the yard.
This man was short, dark-bearded, with black, lanky
hair, brass earrings, and buckskin leggings, all the
typical equipment of the French courctcr tie bois.
Iberville had only got one glance at his face, but the
sinister profile could never be forgotten. At once the
man passed out of view. The girl had not seen him,
sho had been watching her companion. Presently she
said, her fingers just brushing his sleeve, for he stood
eyeing the point where the man had disappeared :
" Wonderful ! You look now as if you would fight.
Oh, fierce, fierce as the governor when he catches a
French spy."

He turned to her and, with a touch of irony, Par-
don !'*'' he retorted. "Now I shall look as blithe as
the governor when a traitor deserts to him."

Of purpose he spoke loud enough to be heard by
the governor and his friend. The governor turned
sharply on him. He had caught the ring in the
voice, that rash enthusiasm of eager youth, and, tak-
ing a step towards Iberville, Count Frontenac's letter
still poised in his hand, " Were your words meant for
my hearing, monsieur?" he said. "Were you speak-
ing of me or of your governor ? "

r-n

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

1 1.

" I was thinking of one Radisson, a traitor, and I
was speaking of yourself, your excellency."

The governor had asked his question in French, in
French the reply was given. Both the girl and Coun-
cillor Drayton followed with difficulty. Jessica looked
a message to her comrade in ignorance. The old
man touched the governor's arm. " Let it be in
English if monsieur is willing. He speaks it
well."

The governor was at work to hide his anger : he
wished good greeting to Count Frontenac's envoy,
and it seemed not fitting to be touched by the charges
of a boy. " I must tell you frankly, Monsieur Iber-
ville," he said, " that I do not choose to find a sort of
challenge in your words ; and I doubt that your
father, had he been here, would have spoken quite so
roundly. But I am for peace and happy temper when
I can. I may not help it if your people, tired of the
governance of Louis of France, come into the good
ruling of King Charles. As for this man Radisson :
what is it you would have ? "

Iberville was now well settled back upon his na-
tive courage. He swallowed the rebuke with grace,
and replied with frankness, " Radisson is an outlaw.

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE.

Once he attempted Count Frontenac's life. He sold
a band of our traders to the Iroquois. He led your
Hollanders stealthily to cut off the Indians of the
AVest, who were coming with their year's furs to our
merchants. There is peace between your colony and
ours — is it fair to harbour such a wretch in your
court-yard? It was said up in Quebec, your excel-
lency, that such men have eaten at your table."

During this speech the governor seemed choleric,
but a change passed over him, and he fell to admiring
the lad's boldness. "Upon my soul, monsieur," ho
said, "you are council, judge, and jury all in one; but
I think I need not weigh the thing with you, for his
excellency, from whom you come, has set forth this
same charge," — he tapped the paper, — " and we will
not spoil good fellowship by threshing it now." He
laughed a little ironically. " And I promise you," he
added, "that your Radisson shall neither drink wine
nor eat bread with you at my table. And now, come,
lest us talk awhile together; for, lest any accident
befall the packet you shall bear, I wish you to carry
in your memory, with great distinctness, the terms of
my writing to your governor. I would that it were
not to be written, for I hate the quill, and I've seen

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

the time I would rather point my sword red than my
goose-horn black."

By this the shadows were falling. In the west the
sun was slipping down behind the hills, leaving the
strong day with a rosy and radiant glamour, that
faded away in eloquent tones to the grey, tinsel soft-
ness of the zenith. Out in the yard a sumach bush
was aflame. Rich tiger-lilies thrust in at the sill, and
lazy flies and king bees boomed in and out of the
window. Something out of the sunset, out of the
glorious freshness and primal majesty of the new
land, t iffused through the room where those four
people stood, and made them silent. Presently the
governor drew his chair to the table, and motioned
Councillor Drayton and Iberville to be seated.

The* girl touched his arm. " And where am I to
sit ? " she asked demurely. Colonel Nicholls pursed
his lips and seemed to frown severely on her. " To
sit? Why, in your room, mistress. Tut, tut, you are
too bold. If I did not know your father was coming
soon to bear you off, new orders should be issued.
Yes, yes, e'en as I say," he added, as he saw the
laughter in her eyes.

She knew that she could wind the big-mannered

»!wer«tM M-aM>u«ij «pw

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE.

soldier about her finger. She had mastered his house-
hold, she was the idol of the settlement, her flexible
intelligence, the flush of the first delicate bounty of
womanhood had made him her slave. In a matter of
vexing weight he would not have let her stay, but
such delibera tings as he would have with Iberville
could well bear her scrutiny. He reached out cj
pinch her cheek, but she deftly tipped her head and
caught his outstretched fingers. "But where am I
to sit?" she persisted.

"Anywhere, then, but at the council-table," was
his response, as he wagged a finger at her and sat
down. Going over she perched herself on a high stool
in the window behind Iberville. He could not see
her, and, if he thought at all about it, he must have
supposed that she could not see him. Yet she could ;
for at the window-frame was a mirror, and it reflected
his face and the doings at the board. She did not
listen to the rumble of voices. She fell to studying
Iberville. Once or twice she laughed softly to herself.

As she turned to the window a man passed by and
looked in at her. His look was singular, and she
started. Something about his face was familiar. She
found her mind feeling among far memories, for even

l^^i! !

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

4 I \

I «i: :-

lli I

I;
I

1 I
il f

i \

I ■'. ■

■a! t

the past of the young stretches out interminably.
She shuddered, and a troubled look came into her
eyes. Yet she could not remember. She leaned
slightly forward, as if she were peering into that by-
gone world which, may be, is wider than the future
for all of us — the past. Her eyes grew deep and
melancholy. The sunset seemed to brighten around
her all at once, and enmesh her in a golden web,
burnishing her hair, and it fell across her brow with
a peculiar radiance, leaving the temples in shadow,
softening and yet lighting the carmine of her cheeks
and lips, giving a feeling of life to her dress, which
itself was like dusty gold. Her hands were caught
and clasped at her knees. There was something
spiritual and exalted in the picture. It had, too, a
touch of tragedy, for something out of her nebulous
past had been reflected in faint shadows in her eyes,
and this again, by strange, delicate processes, was ex-
pressed in every line of her form, in all the aspect of
her face. It was as if some knowledge were being
filtered to her through myriad atmospheres of pre-
monition ; as though the gods in pity foreshadowed a
great trouble, that the first rudeness of misery might
be spared.

<b'

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE.

She did not note that Iberville had risen, and had
come round the tabic to look over Councillor Dray-
ton's shoulder at a map spread out. After standing a
moment watching, the councillor's finger his pilot, ho
started back to his seat. As he did so, he caught
sight of her, still in that poise of wonderment, and
sadness. He stopped short, then glanced at Colonel
Nicholls and the councillor. Both were bent over
the map, talking in eager tones. He came softly
round the table, and was about to speak over her
shoulder, when she drew herself up with a little
shiver and seemed to come back from afar. Her
hands went up to her eyes. Then she heard him.
She turned quickly, with the pageant of her dreams
still wavering in her face, smiled at him distantly,
looked towards the window again in a troubled way,
then stepped softly and swiftly to the door, and
passed out. Iberville watched the door close and
turned to the window. Again he saw, and this time
nearer to the window, Eadisson, and with him the
man who had so suddenly mastered Jessica.

He turned to Colonel Nicholls. ** Your excellen-
cy," he said, " will you not let me tell Count Fronte-
nac that you forbid Eadisson your purlieus? For,

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

Bf;

believe me, sir, there is no greater rogue unhanged, as
you shall find some day to the hurt of your colony, if
you shelter him."

The governor rose and paced the room thought-
fully. " He is proclaimed by Frontenac ? " he asked.

"A price is on his head. As a Frenchman I
should shoot him like a wolf where'er I saw him ; and
so I would now were I not Count Frontenac's am-
bassador and in your excellency's presenc«."

" You speak manfully, monsieur," said the gover-
nor, not ill-pleased ; " but how might you shoot him
now? Is he without there?" At this he came to
where Iberville stood, and looked out. " Who is the
fellow with him ? " he asked.

"A cut-throat scoundrel, I'll swear, though his
face is so smug," said Iberville. " What think you,
sir ? " turning to the councillor, who was peering be-
tween their shoulders.

" As artless yet as strange a face as I have ever
seen," answered the merchant. " What's his business
here, and why comes he with the other rogue ? He
would speak with your excellency, I doubt not," he
added.

Colonel Nicholls turned to Iberville. " You shall

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE.

have your way," he said. " Yon renegade was useful
when we did not know wliat sudden game was phiy-
ing from Chdteau St. Louis ; for, as you can guess, ho
has friends as faithless as himself. But to please your
governor, I will proclaim him."

He took his stick and tapped the floor. Waiting
a moment, he tapped again. There was no sign.
lie opened the door, but his Scots bodyguard was not
in sight. "That's unusual," he said. Then, look-
ing round, "Where is our other councillor? Gone?"
he laughed. " Faith, I did not see her go. And now
we can swear that where the dear witch is will Morris,
my Scotsman, be found. Well, well ! They have
their way with us whether we will or no. But, here,
I'll have your Radisson in at once."

He was in act to call when Morris entered. With
a little hasty rebuke he gave his order. " And look
you, my good Morris," he added, " tell Sherlock and
Weir to stand ready. I may need the show of fire-

arms.

Turning to Iberville, he said, "I trust you will
rest with us some days, monsieur. We shall have
sports and junketings anon. We are not yet so grim
as our friends in Massachusetts."

'ili

1
if ■♦'

lit:

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

" I thiiik I might venture two days with you, sir,
if for nothing else, to see Radisson proclaimed. Count
Frontenac would gladly cut months from his calendar
to know you ceased to harbour one who can prove no
friend."

The governor smiled. " You have a rare taste for
challenge, monsieur. To be frank, I will say yonr
gift is more that of the soldier than the envoy. But
upon my soul, if you will permit me, I think no less
of you for that."

Then the door opened, and Morris brought in
Radisson. The keen, sinister e3^es of the woodsman
travelled from face to face, and rested savagely on
Iberville. He scented trouble, and traced it to its
source. Iberville drew back to the window and, rest-
ing his arm on the high stool where Jessica had sat,
waited the event. Presently the governor came over
to him.

" You can understand," he said quietly, " that this
man has been used by my people, and that things may
be said which "

Iberville waved his hand respectfully. " I under-
stand, your excellency," he said. "I will go." He
went to the door.

THE THREAT OP A RENEGADE.

you, sir,
I. Count
calendar
prove no

taste for

ay your

y. But

no less

iglit in
odsman
?ely on
to its
d, rest-
ad sat,
e over

at this
js may

mder-
He

The woodsman as he passed broke out, " There is
the old saying of the woods, * It is mad for the young
wolf to trail the old bear.' "

" That is so," rejoined Iberville, with excellent
coolness, " if the wolf holds not the spring of the
trap."

In the outer room were two soldiers and the Scot.
He nodded, passed into the yard, and there he paced
up and down. Once he saw Jessica's face at a win-
dow, he was astonished to see how changed. It wore
a grave, an apprehensive look. He fell to wondering,
but even as he wondered his habit of observation
made him take in every feature of the governor's
house and garden, so that he could have reproduced
all as it was mirrored in his eye. Presently he found
himself again associating Radisson's comrade with the
vague terror in Jessica's face. At last he saw the fel-
low come forth between two soldiers, and the woods-
man turned his head from side to side, showing his
teeth like a wild beast at bi; at of Iberville. Ilis

v.,

black brows twitched over his vicious eyes. " There
are many ways to hell. Monsieur Iberville," he said ;
*' I will show you one. Some day when you think
you tread on a wisp of straw, it will be a snake with

THE TRAIL OF TUE SWORD.

the deadly tooth. You have made an outlaw — take
care! When the outlaw tires of the game, he winds
it up — quick ! And some one pays for the candles
and the cards."

Iberville walked up to him. " Radisson," he said
in voice well controlled, "you have always been an
outlaw. In our native country you were a traitor ; in
this, you are the traitor still. I am not sorry for you,
for you deserve not mercy. Prove me wrong. Go
back to Quebec ; olrer to pay with your neck,
then " '

" I will have my hour," said the woodsman, and
started on.

" It's a pity," said Iberville to himself; " as fine a
woodsman as Perrot too ! "

11 vv— take
ho winds
i candles

' he said
been an
liter; in
for you,
ng. Go
r neck,

an, and
IS fine a

CHAPTER III.

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.

At the governor's table that niglit certain ladies
and gentlemen assembled to do the envoy honour.
Came, too, a young gentleman, son of a distinguished
New Englander, his name George Gering, who was
now in New York for the first time. The truth is,
his visit was to Jessica, his old playmate, the mistress
of his boyhood. Her father was in England, her
mother had been dead many years, and Colonel
Nicholls and his sister being kinsfolk, a whole twelve-
month ago he had left her with them. lie had meant
at first to house her in Boston with his old friend
Edward Gering, but he loved the Cavalier-like tone of
Colonel Nicholls' household better than the less in-
spiriting air which Madam Puritan Gering suffused
about her home. Himself in early youth had felt the
austerity of a Cavalier father turned a Puritan on a
sudden, and he wished no such experience for his

(27)

THE TRAIL OP THE SWOUD.

daughter. For till her abundancy of life and feeling,
lie knew how plastic and impressionable she was, and
he dreaded to see that exaltation of her fresh spirit
touched with gloom. She was his only child, she had
been little out of his sight, her education had gone on
under his own care, and in so far as was possible in a
new land, ho had surrounded her with gracious in-
fluences. He looked forward to any definite separa-
tion (as marriage) with apprehension. Perhaps one
of the reasons why he chose Colonel Nicholls' house
foi' her home, was a fear lest George Gering should so
impress her that she might somehow change ere his
return. And in those times brides of sixteen were
common as now they are rare.

She sat on the governor's left. All the brightness,
the soft piquancy, which Iberville knew, had returned ;
and he wondered, — fortunate to know that wonder so
young, — at her varying moods, "jhe talked little, and
mosu with the governor ; but her presence seemed
pervasive, the aura in her veins flowed from her eye
and made an atmosphere that lighted even the
scarred and rather sulky faces of two officers of His
Majesty. They had served with Nicholls in Spain,
but not having eaten King Louis' bread, eyed all

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.

Frenchmen askance, and were not needlessly courteous
to Iberville, whoso achievments they could scarce ap-
preciate, having done no Indian fighting.

Iberville sat at the governor's end. Goring at tho
other. It was remarkable to Iberville that Gering's
eyes were much on Jessica, and in the spirit of rivalry,
the legitimate growth of race and habit, ho began to
speak to her with the air of easy but deliberate play-
fulness which marked their first meeting.

Presently she spoke across the table to him, after
Colonel Nicholls had pledged him heartily over wine.
The tone was a half whisper as of awe, in reality a
pretty mockery. " Tell me," she said, " what is tho
bravest and greatest thing you ever did? "

" Jessica, Jessica ! " said the governor in reproof.
An old Dutch burgher laughed into his hand, and
His Majesty's officers cocked their ears, for the whis-
per was more arresting than any loud talk. Iberville
coloured, but the flush passed quickly and left him
unembarrassed. lie was not hurt, not even piqued,
for he felt well used to her dainty raillery. But he
saw that Gering's eyes were on him, and the lull that
fell as by a common instinct — for all could not have
heard the question — gave him a thrill of timidity.

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

iw ■

But, smiling, he said dr^'ly across the table, his voice
quiet and clear, " My bravest and greatest thing was
to answer an English lady's wit in English."

A murmur of applause ran round, and Jessica
laughed and clapped her hands. For the first time
in his life Gering had a pang of jealous and envy.
Only that afternoon he had spent ,a happy hour with
Jessica in tlie governor's garden, and he had then
made an advance upon the simple relations of their
life in Boston. She had met him without self-con-
sciousness, persisting in her old ways, and showing
only when she left him, and then for a breath, that
she saw his new attitude. 'Now the eyes of the two
men met, and Gering's dark face flushed and his brow
lowered. Perhaps no one saw but Iberville, but he,
seeing, felt a sudden desire to play upon the other's
weakness. lie was too good a sportsman to show
temper in a game ; he had suddenly come to the
knowledge that love, too, is a game, and needs play-
ing. By this time the dinner was drawing to its close,
and now a singular thing happened. As Jessica, with
demure amusement, listened to the talk that followed
Iberville's sally, she chanced to lift her eyes to a win-
dow. She started, changed colour, and gave a little

III

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.

,.'c

cry. The governor's hand covered hers at once as ho
followed her look. It was a summer's night, and the
curtained windows were partly open. Iberville noted
that Jessica's face wore the self-same shadow as in the
afternoon when she had seen the stranger with Radis-
son.

" What was it, my dear ? " said the governor.

She did not answer, but pressed his hand nerv-
ously.

" A spy, I believe," said Iberville, in a low voice.

" Yes, yes," said Jessica in a half whisper ; " a man
looked in at the window ; a face that I have seen — but
I can't remember when."

The governor went to the window and drcv/ the
curtains. There was nothing to see. He ordered
Morris, who stood behind his chair, to have the
ground searched and to bring in any straggler.
Already both the officers were on their way to the
door, and at this point it opened and let in a soldier.
He said that as he and his comrade were returning
from their duty with Radisson, they saw a man lurk-
ing in the grounds and seized him. He had made no
rosistance, and was now under guard in the anteroom.
The governor apologised to his guests, but the dinner

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

» • r

•A-

(•

could not be ended formally now, so the ladies rose
and retired. Jessica, making a mighty effort to
recover herself, succeeded so well that ere she went
she was able to reproach herself for her alarm; the
more so because the governor's sister showed her such
consideration as would be given a frightened child, —
and she had begun to feel something more.

The ladies gone, the governor drew his guests
about him and ordered in the prisoner. Morris spoke
up, saying that the man had begged an interview with
the governor that afternoon, but, being told that his
excellency was engaged, had said another time would
do. This man was the prisoner. He came in under
guard, but he bore himself quietly enough and made a
low bow to the governor. He was not an ill-favoured
fellow. His eye was steely cold, but his face was
hearty and round, and remarkably free from vicious-
ness. He had a cheerful air and an alert freedom of
manner, which suggested good fellowship and honest
enterprise. Where his left hand had been was an
iron hook, but not obtrusively in view, nor did it give
any marked grimness to his appearance. Indit^ed, the
effect was almost comical Tvhen he lifted it and
scratched his head and then rubbed his chin with it ;

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.

it made him look part bumpkin and part sailor. He
bore the scrutiny of the company very well, and pres-
ently bowed again to the governor as one who waited
the expression of that officer's goodwill and pleasure.

" Now, fellow," said the colonel, " think yourself
lucky my soldiers here did not shoot you without
shrift. You chance upon good-natured times. When
a spying stranger comes dangling about these win-
dows, my men are given to adorning the nearest tree
with him. Out with the truth now. Who and what
are you, and why are you here ? "

The fellow bowed. " I am the captain of a little
trading schooner, the Nell Gwynn, which anchors in
the roadstead till I have laid some private business be-
fore your excellency and can get on to West Indies."

** Business — private business ! Then what in the
name of all that's infernal," quoth Nicholls, " brought
your sneaking face to yon window to fright my lady-
guests ? " The memory of Jessica's alarm came hotly
to his mind. " By God," he said, " I have a will to
see you lifted for means to better manners ! "

The man stood very quiet, now and again, how-
ever, raising the hook to stroke his chin. He showed
no fear, but Iberville, with his habit of observation.

ifia

TUB TltAIL OF TUE SWORD.

i^:-;^:

caught in his eyes, shining superficially with a sailor's
open honesty, a strange, ulterior look. " My busi-
ness," so he ans vered Nicholls, " is for your excellen-
cy's ears." He bowed again.

" Have done with scraping. Now, I tell you what,
my gentle spy, if your business hath not concern I'll
stretch you by your fingers there to our public gal-
lows, and my fellows shall fill you with small shot as
full as a pod of peas."

The governor rose and went into another room,
followed by this strange visitor and the two soldiers.
There he told the guard to wait at the door, which
entered into the anteroom. Then he unlocked a
drawer and took out of it a pair of pistols. These he
laid on the table (for he knew the times), noting the
while that the seaman watched him with a pensive,
deprecating grin.

" Well, sir," he said sharply (for he was something
nettled), " out with your business and your name in
preface."

" My name is Edward Bucklaw, and I have come
to your excellency because I know there is no braver
and more enterprising gentleman in the world." lie
paused.

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW.

" So much for preamble ; now for the discourse."
" By your excellency's leave. I am a poor man.
I have only my little craft and a handful of seamen
picked uj) at odd prices. But there's gold and silver
enough I know of, owned by no man, to make cargo
and ballast for the Nell Gwynn^ or another twice her

size. ,

"Gold and silver," said the governor, cocking his
ear and eyeing his visitor up and down. Colonel
NichoUs had an acquisitive instinct. He was inter-
ested. " Well ! well ! gold and silver," he continued,
*' to fill the Nell Givynn and another ? And what
concern is that of mine ? Let your words come plain
off your tongue, for I have no time for foolery."

"'Tis no foolery on my tongue, sir, as you may
please to see."

He drew a paper from his pocket and shook it out
as he came a little nearer, speaking all the while. His
voice had gone low running to a soft kind of chuckle,
and his eyes were snapping with fire, which Iberville
alone had seen was false. " I have come to make
your excellency's fortune, if you will stand by with a
good, stout ship and a handful of men to soe me
through."

' ' - -

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

The governor shrugged his shoulders. " Babble,"
he said, " all babble and bubble. But go on."

" Babble, your honour ! Every word of it is worth
a pint of guineas ; and this is the pith of it. Far
down West Indies way, some twenty-five maybe, or
thirty years ago, there was a plate ship wrecked upon
a reef. I got it from a Spaniard, who had been sworn
upon oath to keep it secret by his priests who knew.
The priests were killed and after a time the Spaniard
died also, but not until he had given me the 'ways
whereby I should got at what makes a man's heart
rap in his weasand."

" Let me see your chart," said the governor.

A half-hour later he rose, went to the door, md
sent a soldier for the two king's officers. As he did
so, Bucklaw read the room-doors, windows, fireplaces,
with a grim, stealthy smile trailing across his face.
Then suddenly the good creature was his old good
self again — the comfortable shrewdness, the buoyant
devil-may-care, the hook stroking the chin pensively.
And the king's officers came in, and soon all four
were busy with the map.

• Ti i fnT' i T n i lTITTTr ia> 1 . n -J

CHAPTER IV.

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWOKDS.

Iberville and Gering sat on with the tobacco
and the wine. The older men had joined the ladies,
the governor having politely asked them to do so
when they chose. The other occupant of the room
was Morris, who still stood stolidly behind Lis mas-
ter's chair.

i'or a time he heard the talk of the two young
men as in a kind of dream. Their words were not
loud, their manner was amicable enough, if the shar-

ing of a bottle were anything to the point. But they
were sitting almost the full length of the table from
him, and to quarrel courteously and with an air hath
ever been a quality in men of gentle blood.

If Morris' eyesight had been better, he would have
seen that Gering handled his wine nervously, and had
put down his long Dutch pipe. He would also have
seen that Iberville was smoking with deliberation, and

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

drinking with a kind of mannered coolness. Gering's
face was flushed, his fine nostrils were swelling vi-
ciously, his- teeth showed white against his red lips,
and his eyes glinted. There was a kind of devilry at
Iberville's large and sensuous mouth, but his eyes
were steady and provoking ; and while Gering's words
went forth pantingly, Iberville's were slow and con-
cise, and chosen with the certainty of a lapidary.

It is hard to tell which had started the quarrel,
but an edge was on their talk from the beginning.
Gering had been moved by a boyish jealousy ; Iber-
ville, who saw the injustice of his foolish temper, had
played his new-found enemy with a malicious adroit-
ness. The aboriginal passions were strong in him.
He had come of a people which had to do with
essentials in the matter of emotions. To love, to
hate, to fight, to explore, to hunt, to be loyal, to
avenge, to bow to Mother Church, to honour the
king, to beget children, to taste outlawry under a
more refined name, and to die without whining:
that was its range of duty, and a very sufficient range
it was.

The talk had been running on Bucklaw. It had
then shifted to Radisson. Gering had crowded homo

-rrTTr" im imiiiiiiag

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS.

with flagrant emphasis tlie fact that, while Radisson
was a traitor and a scoundrel, — which Iberville himself
had admitted with an ironical frankness, — he was also
a Frenchman. It was at this point that Iberville re-
membered, also with something of irony, the words
that Jessica had used that afternoon when she came
out of the sunshine into the anteroom of the gov-
ernor's chamber. She had waved her hand into the
distance and had said, "Foolish boy!" He knew
very well that that part of the game was turned
against him, but with a kind of cheerful recklessness,
as was ever his way with odds against him — and he
guessed that the odds were with Gering in the matter
of Jessica, — he bent across the table and repeated
them with an exasperating turn to his imperfect ac-
cent. " Foolish boy ! " he said, and awaited, not for
long, the event.

"A fool's lie!" retorted Gering in a low, angry
voice, and spilled his wine.

At that Iberville's heart thumped in his throat
with anger, and the roof of his mouth became dry ;
never in his life had he been called a liar. The first
time that insult strikes a youth of spirit he goes a
little mad. But he was very quiet — an ominous sort

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

y- ' r'

of quietness, even in a boy. lie got to his feet and
leaned over the table, speaking in words that dropped
on the silence like metal: "Monsieur, there is but
one answer."

At this point Morris, roused from his elaborate
musings, caught, not very clearly, at the meaning of
it all. But he had not time to see more, for just then
he was called by the governor, and passed into the
room where Mammon, for the moment, perched like
a leering, little dwarf upon the shoulders of adven-
turous gentlemen grown avaricious on a sudden.

"Monsieur, there is but one way. Well?" re-
peated Iberville.

" I am ready," replied Gering, also getting to his
feet.

The Frenchman was at once alive to certain diffi-
culties. He knew that an envoy should not fight,
and that he could ask no one to stand his second;
also that it would not be possible to arrange a formal
duel between opposites so young as Gering and him-
self. He sketched this briefly, and the Bostonian
nodded moody assent.

" Come, then," said Iberville, " let us find a place.
My sword is at my hand. Yours ? "

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS.

"Mine is not far off," answered Gering sullenly.

Iberville forbore to point a moral, but walked to
the mantle, above which hung two swords of finest
steel, with richly-chased handles. He had noted
them as soon as he had entered the room. " By the
governor's leave," he said, and took them down.
*• Since ve are to ruffle him, let him furnish the spurs
— eh ? Shall we use these, and so be even as to
weapons ? But see," he added, with a burst of frank-
ness, " I am in a — a trouble." It was not easy on the
instant to find the English word. He explained the
duties of his mission. It was singular to ask his
enemy that he should see his papers handed to Count
Frontenac if he were killed, but it was characteristic
of him.

" I will see the papers delivered," said Gering,
with equal frankness.

" That is, if by some miraculous chance I should
be killed," added Iberville. " But I have other ends
in view."

" I have only onr end in view," retorted Gering.
" But wait," he said, as they neared the door leading
into the main hall ; " we may be seen. There is an-
other way into the groun'^s through a little hall

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

here." He turned and opened a door almost as small
as a panel. " I was shown this secret door the other
day, and since ours is a secret mission let us use it."

" Very well. But a minute more," said Iberville.
He went and unhooked a fine brass lantern, of old
Dutch workmanship, swung from the ceiling by a
chain. " We shall need a light," he remarked.

They passed into the musty little hallway, and

Gering with some difficulty drew back the bolts.

•I
The door creaked open and they stepped out into

the garden, Iberville leading the way. He had not
conned his surroundings that afternoon for nothing,
and when they had reached a quiet place among some
firs he hung the lantern to the branch of a tree,
opening the little ornamental door so that the light
streamed out. There was not much of it, but it
would serve, and without a word, like two old war-
riors, they took off their coats.

Meanwhile Morris had returned to the dining-
room to find Jessica standing agaze there. She had
just come in ; for, chancing to be in her bed-chamber,
which was just over the secret hallway, she had heard
Gering shoot the bolts. Now, the chamber was in a
corner, so that the window faced another way, but the

THE UPLIFTING OP TIIK SWORDS.

incident scorned strange to her, "and she stood for a
moment listening. Then hearing the door shut, siio
ran down the stairs, knocked at the dining-room door
and, getting no answer, entered, meeting Morris as ho
came from the governor's room.

" Morris, Morris," she said, " where are they all ? "

" The governor is in his room, mistress. '

"Wlioare with him?"

He told her.

"Where are the others? "she urged. "Mr. Cor-
ing and Monsieur Iberville — where are they ? "

The man's eyes had flashed to the place where the
swords were used to hang. " Lord God ! " he said
under his breath.

Her eyes had followed his. She ran forward to
the wall and threw up her hands against it. "0
Morris," she said distractedly, " they have taken the
swords ! " Then she went past him, swiftly through
the panel and the outer door. She glanced around
quickly, running, as she did so, with a kind of blind
instinct towards the clump of firs. Presently she saw
a little stream of light in the trees. Always a crea-
ture of abundant energy and sprightliness, she swept
through the night, from the comedy behind to the

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

tragedy in front ; the gray starlight falling about her
white dress and making her hair seem like a cloud
behind her as she ran. Suddenly she came in on the
two sworders with a scared, transfigured face.

Iberville had his man at an advantage, and was
making the most of it when she came in at an angle
behind the other, and the sight of her stayed his arm.
It was but for a breath, but it served. Gering had
not seen, and his sword ran up Iberville's arm, mak-
ing a little tre/^ch in the flesh.

She ran in on them from the gloom, saying in a
deep, aching voice, " Stop, stop ! Oh, what mad-
ness ! "

The points dropped and they stepped back. She
stood betwecTi the in, looking from one to the other.
At that momeiit Mc/ris burst in also. "In God's
name," he said, " is this year honouring of the king's
governor? Ye that have eat and drunk at his table
the nicht ! Have ye nae sense o' your manhood,
young gentlemen, that for a mad gossip over the wine
ye wend into the dark to cut each other's throats ?
Think — think shame, baith o' ye, being as ye are of
them that should know better."

Gering moodily put on his coat and held his

mad-

(

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS.

peace. Iberville tossed his sword aside, and presently
wrung the blood from his white sleeve. The girl saw
him, and knew that he was wounded. She snatched
a scarf from her waist and ran towards him. " You
are wounded ! " she said. " Oh, take this."

" I am so much sorry, indeed," he answered coolly,
winding the scarf about his arm. " Mistress Leveret
came too soon."

His face wore a peculiar smile, but his eyes burned
with anger ; his voice was not excited. Immediately,
however, as he looked at Jessica, his mood seemed to
change.

" Morris," he said, " I am sorry. Mademoiselle,"
he added, ''^pardon! I regret whatever gives you
pain."

Gering came near to her, and Iberville could see
that a flush stole over Jessica's face as he took her
hand and said, " I am sorry — that you should have
known."

" Good ! " said Iberville, under his breath. " Good !
he is worth fighting again."

A moment afterwards Morris explained to them
that if the matter could be hushed he would not im-
part it to the governor — at least, not until Iberville

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

had gone. Then they all started back towards the
house. It did not seem incongruous to Iberville and
Gering to walk side by side; theirs was a superior
kind of hate. TLey paused outside the door, on
Morris's hint, that he might see if the coast was
clear, and return the swords to their place on the
wall.

Jessica turned in the doorway. "I shall never
forgive you," she said, and was swallowed by the
darkness.

" Which does she mean ? " asked Iberville, with a
touch of irony. The other was silent.

In a moment Morris came back to tell them that
they might come, for the dining-room was empty still.

CHAPTER V.

THE FRUITS OF THE LAW.

BucKLAW having convinced the governor and his
friends that down West Indies way there was treasure
for the finding, was told that he might come again
next morning. He asked if it might not be late
afternoon instead, because he had cargo from the
Indies for sale, and in the morning certain merchants
were to visit his vessel. Truth to tell he was playing
a deep game. He wanted to learn the governor's
plans for the next afternoon and evening, and thought
to do so by proposing this same change. He did not
reckon foolishly. The governor gave him to under-
stand that there would be feasting next day: first,
because it was the birthday of the Duke of York;
secondly, because it was the anniversary of the cap-
ture from the Dutch ; and, last of all, because there
were Indian chiefs to come from Albany to see New
York and himself for the first time. The official

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

celebration would begin in the afternoon and last
till sundown, so that all the governor's time must be
fully occupied. But Bucklaw said, with great can-
dour, that unfortunately he had to sail for Boston
within thirty-six hours, to keep engagements with
divers assignees for whom he had special cargo. If
his excellency, he said, would come out i > his ship
the next evening when the shows were dene, he would
be proud to have him see his racketing little craft ;
and it could then be judged if, with furbishing and
armaments, she could by any means be used for the
expedition. Nicholls consented, and asked the king's
officers if they would accompany him. This they
were exceedingly glad to do : so that the honest ship-
man's good nature and politeness were vastly in-
creased, and he waved his hook in so funny and so
boyish a way it set them all a-laughing.

So it was arranged forthwith that he should be at
a quiet point on the shore at a certain hour to row
the governor and his friends to the Kell Gwynn.
And, this done, he was bade to go to the dining-room
and refresh himself.

He obeyed with cheerfulness and was taken in
charge by Morris, who, having passed on Iberville and

THE FRUITS OF THE LAW.

Gering to the drawing-room, was once more at his
post taciturn as ever. The governor and his friends
had gone straight to the drawing-room, so that Mor-
ris and he were alone. Wine was set before the sailor
and he took off a glass with gusto, his eye cocked
humorously towards his host. "No worse fate for a
sinner," quoth he ; " none better for a saint."

Morris' temper was not amiable. He did not like
the rascal. " Ay," said he, " but many's the sinner
has wished yon wish, and footed it from the stocks to
the gallows."

Bucklaw laughed up at him. It was not a pretty
laugh, and his eyes were insolent and hard. But that
changed almost on the instant. " A good thrust,
mighty Scot," he said. "Now what say you to a
pasty, or a strip of beef cut where the juice runs, and
maybe the half of a broiled fowl ? "

Morris, imperturbably deliberate, left the room to
seek the kitchen. Bucklaw got instantly to his feet.
His eye took in every window and door, and ran along
the ceiling and the wall. There was a sudden click
in the wall before him. It was the door leading to
the unused hallway, which had not been properly
closed and had sprung open. He caught up a caudle,

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

ran over, entered the hallway, and gave a grunt of
satisfaction. He hastily and softly drew the bolts of
the outer door, so that any one might come in from
the garden, then stepped back into the dining-room
and closed the panel tight behind him, remarking
with delight that it had no spring-lock, and could be
opgned from the hallway. He came back quickly to
the table, put down the candle, took his seat, stroked
his chin with his hook, and chuckled. When Morris
came back, he was holding his wine with one hand
while he hummed a snatch of song and drummed
lightly on the table with the hook. Immediately
after came a servant with a tray, and the Scotsman
was soon astonished, not only at the bucksomeness of
his appetite, but at the deftness with which he carved
and handled things with what he called his " tiger."
And so he went on talking and eating, and he sat so
long that Jessica, as she passed into the corridor and
up the stairs, wearied by the day, heard his voice
uplifted in song. It so worked upon her that she
put her hands to her ears, hurried to her room, and
threw herself upon the bed in a distress she could set
down to no real cause.

Before the governor and his guests parted for the

THE FRUITS OF THE LAW.

>»

the

night, Iberville, as he made his adieus to Gering, said
in a low voice, " The same place and time to-morrow
night, and on the same conditions?"

" I shall be happy," said Gering, and they bowed
with great formality.

The governor had chanced to hear a word or two
and, thinking it was some game of which they spoke,
said, " Piquet or a game of wits, gentlemen ? "

"Neither, your excellency," quoth Gering, "a
game called fox and goose."

" Good," said Iberville, under his breath ; " my
Puritan is waking."

The governor was in ripe humour. " But it is a
game of wits, then, after all. Upon my soul, you two
should fence like a pair of veterans."

" Only for a pass or two," said Iberville dryly,
" We cannot keep it up."

All this while a boat was rowing swiftly from the
shore of the island towards a craft carrying Nell
Gwynn beneath the curious, antique figure-head.
There were two men in her, and they were talking
gloatingly and low.

" See, bully, how I have the whole thing in my
hands. Ha! Received by the governor and his

j
i

ll!

h 1!

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

friends ! They are all mad for the doubloons, which
are not for them, my Radisson, but for you and me,
and for a greater than Colonel Richard NichoUs.
Ho, ho! I know him — the man who shall lead the
hunt and find the gold — the only man in all that
cursed Boston whose heart I would not eat raw, so
help me Judas ! And his name — no. That is to
come. I will make him great."

Again he chuckled. " Over in Londo^ they shall
take him to their bosoms. Over in London his
blessed majesty shall dub him knight— treasure-trove
is a fine reason for the touch of a royal sword — and
the king shall say : * Rise, Sir William.' No, it is not
time for the name ; but it is not Richard Nicholls, it
is not Hogarth Leveret." He laughed like a boy.
" I have you, Hogarth Leveret, in my hand, and by
God I will squeeze you until there is a drop of heart's
blood at every pore of your skin ! "

Now and again Radisson looked sideways at him, a
sardonic smile at his lip. At last, "5/ew," he said, " you
are merry ! So, I shall be merry too, for I have scores
to wipe away, and they shall be wiped clean — clean."

" You are with me, then," the pirate asked ; " even
as to the girl?"

THE FRUITS OF THE LAW.

sven

" Even as to the girl," was the reply, with a hnital
oath.

" That is good, that is good. Blood of my soul, I
have waited twelve years — twelve years."

" You have not told me," rejoined the French-
man ; " speak now."

" There is not much to tell, but we are to be part-
ners once and for all. See, my beauty. lie was a
kite-livered captain. There was gold on board. We
mutinied and put him and four others (their livers
were like his own) in a boat with provisions plenty.
Then we sailed for Boston. We never thought the
crew of skulkers would reach land, but by God they
drifted in again the very hour we found port. We
were taken and condemned. First, I was put into
the stocks, hands and feet, till I was fit for the
pillory ; from the pillory to the wooden horse." Here
he laughed, and the laugh was soft and womanlike.
" Then the whipping-post, when I was made pulp
from my neck to my loins. After that I was to hang.
I was the only one they cooked so ; the rest were to
hang raw. I did not hang ; I broke prison and ran.
For years I was a slave among the Spaniards. Years
more — in all, twelve^and then I came back with the

.* II

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

I i

littlo cliart for ono thing, this to do for another.
Who was it g£.ve mo that rogues' march from the
stocks to the gallows' foot? It was Hogarth Leveret,
who deals out law in Massacb'v.etts in the king's
name, by the grace of God. It was my whim to cap-
ture him and take him on a journey — such a journey
as he would go but once. Blood of my soul, the dear
lad waf? gone. But there was his child. See this ;
when I stood in the pillory a maid one day brought
the child to the foot of the platform, lifted it up in
her arms and said, ' Your father put that villain
there.' That woman was sister to one of the dogs
we'd set adrift. The child stared at me hard, and I
looked at her, though my eyes were a little the worse
for wear, so that she cried out in great fright — the
sweet innocent ! and then the wench took her away.
When she saw my face to-night — to-day — it sent her
wild, but she did not remember." He rubbed his
chin in ecstasy and drummed his knee. " Ha ! I can-
not have the father — so I'll have the goodly child,
and great will be the ransom. Great will be the ran-
som, my Frenchman ! " And once more he tapped
Radisson with the " tiger.'*

CHAPTER VI.

THE KIDNAPPING.

The rejoicing had reached its apogee, and was on
the wane. The Puritan had stretched his austereness
to the point of levity; the Dutchman had comfort-
ably sweated his obedience and content ; the Cavalier
had paced it with a pretty air of patronage and an
eye for matron and maid; the Indian, come from his
far hunting grounds, bivouacked in the governor's
presence as the pipe of peace went round.

About twilight the governor and his party had
gone home. Deep in ceremonial as he had been, his
mind had run upon Bucklaw and the Spaniard's
country. So, when the dusk was growing into night,
the hour came for his visit to the Nell Gwyun. With
his two soldier friends and Councillor Drayton, he
sta/ted by a roundabout for the point where he
looked to find Bucklaw. Bucklaw was not there :
he h .d other fish to fry, and the ship's lights

5 (55)

TIIK TRAIL OF THK SWORD.

wcro gone. She Imd changed her ancliorage since
afternoon.

" It's a bold scliome," Bucklavv was saying to liis
fellow-rufliau in the governor's garden, " and it may
fail, yet 'twill go hard, but we'll save our skins. No
pluck, no pence. Once again, here's the trick of it.
I'll go in by the side-door I unlocked last night, hide
in the hallway, then enter the house quietly or boldly,
as the case may be. Plan one : a message from his
excellency to Miss Leveret, that he wishes her to join
him on the Nell Gwyim. Once outside it's all right.
She cannot escape us. We have our cloaks and we
have the Spanish drug. Plan two : make her ours
in the house. Out by this hall-door — through the
grounds — to the bet-ch — the boat in waiting — and so,
up anchor and av/ay ! Both risky, as you see, but the
bolder the game the sweeter the spoil! You're sure
her chamber is above that hallway, and there's a stair-
case to it from the main-hall ? "

" I am very well sure. I know the house upstairs
and down."

Bucklaw looked to his arms. He was about start-
ing on his quest when they heard footsteps, and two
figures appeared. It was Iberville and Gering. They

3 Since

to his
it may
18. No
i of it.
it, liido
boldly,
•om his
to join
11 right,
and we
er onrs
gh the
and so,
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They

THE KIDNAPPINO.

paused a moment not far from where the rogues were
hid.

" I think you will agree," said Iberville, " that we
must fight."

*' I have no other mind."

" You will also be glad if we are not come upon as
last night; though, confess, the lady gave you a lease
of life?"

" If she comes to-night, I hope it will be \vhen I
have done with you," answered Gering.

Iberville laughed a little, and the laugh had fire
in it — hatred, and the joy of battle. " Shall it be
here or yonder in the pines, where we were in train
last night?"
. "Yonder."

" So." Then Iberville hummed ironically a song—

♦♦ Oh. bury me where I liave fought and fallen,
your scarf across my shoulder, lady mine I "

They passed on. "The game is in our hands,"
said Bucklaw. " I understand this thing. That's a
pair of gallant young sprigs, but tl.\e choice is your
Frenchman. Kadisson."

" I'll pink his breast-bone full of holes if the other
doesn't — curse him ! "

'.'f

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

A sweet laugh trickled from Bucklaw's lips like
oil. " That's neither here nor there. I'd like to
have him down Acapulco way, dear lad. . . . And
now, here's my plan all changed. Ha ! I'll have my
young lady out to stop the duel, and, God's love, she'll
come alone. Once here she's ours, and they may cut
each other's throats as tliey will, sweetheart ! "

He crossed the yard, tried the door — unlocked, as
he had left it— pushed it open, and went in, groping
his way to the door of the dining-room. He listened.
There was no sound. Then he heard someone go in.
He listened again. Whoever it was had sat down. Very
carefully he felt for the spring and opened the door.

Jessica was seated at the table with paper and an
ink-horn before her. She was writing. She stopped
— the pen was bad. She got up and went away to her
room. Instantly Bucklaw laid his plan. He entered
as she disappeared, went to the table and looked at
the paper on which she had been writing. It bore but
the words, " Dear Friend." He caught up the quill
and wrote hurriedly beneath them, this —

*' If you'' d see two gentlemen fighting^ go now where
you stopped them last night. The wrong one may he
killed unless.''^

THE KIDNAPPING.

With a quick flash of malice he signed, in lialf a
dozen lightning-like strokes, with a sketch of his
hook. Then he turned, hurried into the little hall,
and so outside, and posted himself beside a lilac bush,
drawing down a bunch of the flowers to drink in their
perfume. Jessica, returning, went straight to the
table. Before she sat down she looked up to the
mantle, but the swords were there. She sighed, and
a tear glistened on her eyelashes. She brushed it
away with her dainty finger-tips and, as she sat down,
saw the paper. She turned pale, caught it up, read it
with a little cry, and let it drop with a shudder of fear
and dismay. She looked round the room. Every-
thing was as she had left it. She was dazed. She
stared at the paper again, then ran and opened the
door througn which Bucklaw had passed. She found
the outer door ajar. With a soft, gasping moan she
passed into the garden, went swiftly by the lilac bush
and on towards the trees. Bucklaw let her do so ; it
was his design that she should be some way from the
house. But, hidden by the bushes, he was running
almost parallel with her. On the other side of her
was Radisson, also running. She presently heard him
and swerved, poor child, into the gin of the fowler !

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

But as the cloak was thrown over her head she gave
a cry.

The firs, where Iberville and Gering had just
plucked out their swords, were not far, and both men
heard. Gering, who best knew the voice, said hur-
riedly, " It is Jessica ! "

Without a word Iberville leaped to the open, and
came into it ahead of Gering. ' They saw the kidnap-
pers and ran. Iberville was the first to find what
Bucklaw was carrying. " Mother of God ! " he cried,
" they're taking her off ! "

" Help ! help ! " cried Gering, and they pushed
on. The two ruffians were running hard, but it
had been an unequal race at the best, and Jessi-
ca lay unconscious in Bucklaw's arms, a dead
weight. Presently they plunged into the bushes and
disappeared. Iberville and Gering passed through
the bushes also, but could neither see nor hear the
quarry. Gering was wild with excitement and lost
his presence of mind. Meanwhile Iberville went
beating for a clue. He guessed that he was dealing
with good woodsmen, and that the kidnappers knew
some secret way out of the garden. It was so. The
Dutch governor had begun to build an old-fashioned

THE KIDNAPPING.

wall with a narrow gateway, so fitted as to seem part
of it. Through this the two had vanished.

Iberville was almost in despair. " Go back," he
suddenly said to Gering, "and rouse the house and
the town. I will get on the trail again if I can."

Gering started away. In this strange excitement
their own foolish quarrel was forgotten, and the
stranger took on himself to command; he was, at
least, not inexperienced in adventure and the wiles of
desperate men. All at once he came upon the wall.
He ran along it, and presently his fingers felt the
passage. An instant and he was outside and making
for the shore, in the sure knowledge that the ruffians
would take to the water. He thought of Bucklaw
and by some impossible instinct divined the presence
of his hand. Suddenly he saw something flash on
the ground. He stooped and picked it up. It was a
shoe with a silver buckle. He thrilled to the finger-
tips as he thrust it in his bosom and pushed on. He
was on the trail now. In a few moments he came to
the waterside. He looked to where he had seen the
Nell Gtvynn in the morning, and there was never a
light in view. Then a twig snapped and Bucklaw,
the girl in his arms, came bundling out of the tree^

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

1,'

' 1

■: i

upon the bank. lie had sent Radisson on ahead to
warn his boat's crew.

lie saw Iberville as soon as Iberville saw him. He
knew that the town would be roused, and the gov-
ernor by this time on fire for revenge. But there was
nothing for it but fighi;. He did not fear the result.
Time was life to him, and he swung the girl half
behind him with his hook-hand as Iberville came on,
and, whipping out his hanger, caught the French-
man's thrust. Instantly e saw that his opposite was
a swordsman, so he let the girl slip to the ground, and
suddenly closing with Iberville, lunged desperately
and expertly at him, straight for a mortal part. But
the Frenchman was too agile and adroit for him : he
took the thrust in the flesh of his ribs and riposted
like lightning. The pirate staggered back, but pulled
himself together instantly, lunged, and took his man
in the flesh of his upper sword arm. Iberville wis
bleeding from the wound in his side and slightly stiff
from the slash of the night before, but every fibre of
his hurt body was on the defensive. Bucklaw knew
it, and seemed to debate if the game were worth the
candle. The town was afoot, and he had earned a
halter for his pains. He was by no means certain

THE KIDNAPPING.

that he could kill this champion and carry off the
girl. Moroover, he did not want Iberville's life, for
such devils have their likes and dislikes, and he had
fancied the chivalrous youngster from the first. But
he doubted only for an instant. What was such a
lad's life compared with his revenge? It was mad-
ness, as he knew, for a shot would guide the pursuit :
none the less did he draw a pistol from his belt and
fire. The bullet graze- the lad's temple, carrying
away a bit of his hair. Iberville staggered forward,
so weak was he from loss of blood, and, with a deep
instinct of protection and preservation, fell at Jessica's
feet. There was a sound of footsteps and crackling
of brush. Bucklaw stooped to pick up his prey, but a
man burst on him from the trees. He saw that the
game was up and he half raised his knife, but that
was only the mad rage of the instant. His revenge
did not comprise so unheard-of a crime. He thought
he had killed Iberville : that was enough. He sprang
away towards the spot where his comrades awaited
him. Escape was his sole ambition now. The new-
comer ran forward, and saw the boy and girl lying as
they were dead. A swift glance at Iberville, and he
slung his musket shoulderwards and fired at the

il 1

■1

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

l! 1*

^ I

8 '

retreating figure. It was a chance shot, for the light
was bad and Bucklaw was already indistinct.

Now the man dropped on his knee and felt Iber-
ville's heart. "Alive!" he said. "Alive, thank the
mother of God ! Mon brave! It is ever the same —
the great father, the great son ! "

As he withdrew his hand it brushed against the
slipper. He took it out, glanced at it, and turned to
the cloaked figure, lie undid the cloak and saw Jes-
sica's pale face. He shook his head. "Always the
same," he said, " always the same : for a king, for a
friend, for a woman ! That is the Le Moyne."

But he was busy as he spoke. With the native
chivalry of the woodsman, he cared first for the girl.
Between her lips he thrust his drinking-horn and
held her head against his shoulder.

" My little ma'm'selle ! ma'm'selle ! " he said.
"Wake up. It is nothing — you are safe. Ah, the
sweet lady ! Come, let me see the colour of your eyes.
Wake up — it is nothing."

Presently the girl did open her eyes. He put the
drinking-horn again to her lips. She shuddered and
took a sip, and then, invigorated, suddenly drew away
from him. " There, there^" he said ; " it is all right.

THE KIDNAPPING.

Now for my poor Iberville." He took Iberville's head
to his knee and thrust the drinking-horn between his
teeth, as he had done with Jessica, calling him in
much the same fashion. Iberville came to with a
start. For a moment he stared blindly at his rescuer,
then a glad intelligence flashed into his eyes.

" Perrot ! dear Nick Perrot ! " he cried. " Oh,
good — good," he added softly. Then with sudden
anxiety — " Where is she ? Where is she ? "

" I am safe, monsieur," said Jessica gently ; " but
you — you are wounded." She came over and dropped
on her knees beside him.

" A little," he said ; " only a little. You cared for
her first ? " he asked of Perrot.

Perrot chuckled. " These Le Moynes ! " he said
under his breath. Then aloud, " The lady first, mon-

>»

sieur.

" So," answered Iberville. " And Bucklaw, the
devil, Bucklaw ? "

" If you mean the rogue who gave you these," said
Perrot, touching the wounds, which he had already
begun to bind, " I think he got away — the light was
bad."

Jessica would have torn her frock for a bandage,

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

but Perrot said in liis broken English, " No, pardon.
Not so. The cloak Idbas will do."

She ran and brought it to him. As she did so
Perrot glanced down at her feet, and then, with a
touch of humour, said, " Pardon ; but you have lost
your slipper, ma'm'selle ? "

He foroRan the little comedy, which he could en-
joy even in :ch j^ ainful circumstances.

" It must have cii'opped off," said Jessica, blush-
ing. " Bat it does not matter."

Iberville blushed too, but a smile also flitted across
his lips. " If you will but put your hand into my
waistcoat here," he said to her, "you will find it."
Timidly she did as she was bid, drew forth the slip-
per, and put it on.

" You see," said Iberville, still faint from loss of
blood, " a Frenchman can fight and hunt too— hunt
the slipper."

Suddenly a look of pain crossed her face.

"Mr. Gering, you — you did not kill him?" she
asked.

"Oh, no, mademoiselle," said Iberville; "you
stopped the game again."

Presently he told her what had happened, and

THE KIDNAPPING.

how Gering was rousing the town. Then he insisted
upon getting on his feet, that they might make their
way to the governor'y house. Staunclily he struggled
on, his weight upon Perrot, till presently he leaned a
hand also on Jessica's shoulder — she had insisted.
On the way Perrot told how it was he chanced to he
there. A hand of coureurs ile buis, bound for Que-
bec, had come upon old Le Moyne and himself in
the woods. Le Moyne had gone or .vi^h these men,
while Perrot pushed on to New Yo k, rrriving at the
very moment of the kidnapping, lie heard the cry
and made towards it. He had •^let Gering, and the
rest they knew.

Certain things did not liappen. The governor of
New York did not at once engage in an expedition
to the Spaniard's country. A brave pursuit vas
made, but Bucklaw went uncaptured. Iberville and
Gering did not make a third attempt to fight ; Per-
rot prevented that. Iberville left, however, with a
knowledge of three things : that he was the first
Frenchman from Quebec who had been, or was likely
to be, popular in New York; that Jessica Leveret
had shown a tender gratitude towards him — naive,
candid — which set him dreaming gaily of the future ;

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

that Goring and he, in spito of outward courtesy, were
still enemies ; for Gering could not forget that, in the
rescue of Jessica, Iberville had done the work while
he merely played the crier.

" We shall meet again, monsieur," said Iberville at
last ; " at least, 1 hope so."

" I shall be glad," answered Gering mechanically.

" But 'tis like 1 shall come to you before you come
to me," added Iberville, with meaning. Jessica Lev-
eret was standing not far away, and Gering did not
instantly reply. In the pause, Iberville said, ^^ Au
revoir ! A la bonne hettre!" and walked away.
Presently he turned with a little, ironical laugh and
waved his hand at Gering; and laugh i;nd gesture
rankled in Gering for many a day.

(ffpocl) t\)e Scconb.

CHAPTER VII.

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

Montreal and Quebec, dear to the fortunes of
such men as Iberville, were a? cheerful in the still
iron winter as any city under any more cordial sky
then or now : men loved, hated, made and broke
bargains, lied to women, kept a foolish honour
with each other, and did deeds of valour for a song
as ever they did from the beginning of the world.
Through the stern soul of Nature ran the tempera-
ment of men who had hearts of summer ; and if on a
certain notable day in Iberville's life, one could have
looked through the window of a low stone house in
Notre Dame Street, Montreal, one could have seen a
priest joyously playing a violin ; though even in
Europe, Maggini and Stradivarius were but little

(G9)

TiiK TRAIL OP tup: sword.

known, and tho instrument itself was often called an
invention of the devil.

The room was not ornamented, save by a crucifix,
a pleasant pencil-drav/ing of Bishop Laval, a gun, a
pair of snow-shoes, a sword, and a little shrine in one
corner, wherein were relics of a saint. Of necessaries
even there were few. They were unremarkable, save
in the case of two tall silver candlesticks, which, with
their candles at an angle from the musician, gave his
face strange lights and shadows.

The priest was powerfully made ; so powerful in-
deed, so tall was he, that when, in one of the changes
of the music, a kind of exaltation filled him, and he
came to his feet, his head almost touched the ceiling.
His shoulders were broad and strong, and though his
limbs were hid by his cassock, his arms showed almost
huge and the violin lay tucked under his chin like a
mere toy. In the eye was a penetrating but abstrpcted
look, and the countenance had the gravity of a priest
lighted by a cheerful soul within. It had been said
of Dollier de Casson that once, attacked by two rene-
gade Frenchman, he had broken the leg of one and
the back of the other, and had then picked them up
and carried them for miles to shelter and nursing.

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

And it was also declared by the romantic that the
man with the broken back recovered, wliile he with
the shattered leg, recovering also, found that his
foot, pointing backward, " made a fool of his nose."

The Abbe de Casson's life had one affection, which
had taken the place of others, now almost lost in the
distance of youth, absence, and indifference. For
France lay far from Montreal, and the priest-musician
was infinitely farther off : the miles which the Church
measures between the priest and his lay boyhood are
not easily reckoned. But such as Dollier de Cassou
must have a field for affection to enrich. You cannot
drive the sap of the tree in upon itself. It must come
out or the tree must die — burst with the very misery
of its richness.

This night he was crowding into the music four
years of events ; of memory, hope, pride, patience and
affection. He was waiting for someone whom he had
not seen for these four years. Time passed. More
and more did the broad sonorous notes fill the room.
At length they ceased, and with a sigh he pressed the
violin once, twice, thrice to his lips.

" My good Stradivarius," he said, " my fearless

one I "

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

,<• i I •'!

Once again he kissed it, and then, drawing his
hand across his eyes, he slowly wrapped the violin in
a velvet cloth, put it away in an iron box, and locked
it up. But presently he changed his mind, took it
out again, aiid pat it on the table, shaking his head
musingly.

" He will wish to see it, maybe to hear it," ho said
hhlt alcud.

Then he turned and went into another room.
Here there was a prie-dieu in a corner, and above it a
crucifix. He knelt and was soon absorbed.

For a time there was silence. At last there was a
cruncliing of moccasined feet upon the crisp snow,
then a slight tap at the outer door, and immediately
it was opened. A stalwart young man stepped inside.
He looked round, pleased, astonished. He glanced at
the violin, then meaningly towards the nearly closed
door of the other room. Then he pulled off his
gloves, threw his cap down, and with a significant toss
of the head, picked up the violin.

He was a strong, handsome man of about twenty-
two, with a face at once open and inscrutable : the
mouth with a trick of smiling, the eyes fearless, con-
vincing, but having at the same time a look behind

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

|nty-

the

pon-

liind

this — an tilert, profound speculation, which gave his
face singular force. He was not so tall as the priest
in the next room, but still he was very tall, and every
movement had a lithe supple strength. His body was
so firm that, as he bent or turned, it seemed as of soft
flexible metal.

Despite his fine manliness, he looked very boylike
as he picked up the violin, and with a silent eager
laugh put it under his chin, nodding gaily, as he did
so, towards the other room. He bent Lis cheek to
the instrument — almost as brown as the wood itself —
and made a pass or two in the air with the bow, as if
to recall a former touch and tune. A satisfied look
shot up in his face, and then with an almost impossi-
ble softness he drew the bow across the strings, get-
ting a distant delicate note, which seemed to float and
tenderly multiply upon itself — a variation, indeed, of
the tune which De Casson had played. A rapt look
came into his eyes. And all that look behind the
general look of his face — the look which has to do
with a man's past or future — deepened and spread,
till you saw, for once in a way, a strong soldier turned
artist, yet only what was masculine and strong. Tl: e
music deepened also and as the priest opened the door

!' 1

■''I

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

swept against him like a wind so warm that a mois-
ture came to his eyes.

" Iberville ! " he said, in a glad voice. " Pierre ! "

The violin was down on the instant. " My dear
abbe ! " And then the two embraced.

" How do you like my entrance?" cried the young
man. " But I had to provide my own music ! " He
laughed, and ran his hands affectionately down the
arms of the priest.

" I had been playing the same old chanson-
ette-

»>

"With your original variations?"

" With my poor variations, just before you came
in ; and that done "

" Yes, yes, abbe, I know the rest : prayers for the
safe return of the sailor, who for four years or nearly
has been learning war in King Louis' ships, and for-
getting the good old way of fighting by land, at which
he once served his prentice time — with your blessing,
my old tutor, my good fighting abbe ! Do you re-
member when we stopped those Dutchmen on the
Richelieu, and you "

The priest interrupted with a laugh. " But, my
dear Iberville "

the

early

for-

lich

sing,

re-

tho

FRIENDS IN COUNCIU

" It was * Pierre ' a minute gone, 'twill be * Mon-
sieur Pierre le Moyne of Iberville ' next," the other
said in mock reproach, as he went to the fire.

" No, no ; I merely "

*' I understand. Pardon the wild youth who
plagues his old friend and teacher, as he did long ago
— so much has happened since."

His face became grave and a look of trouble came.
Presently the priest said, " I never had a i)upil whose
teasing was so pleasant, poor humourist that I am.
But now, Pierre, tell me all, while I lay out what the
pantry holds."

The gay look came back into Iberville's face.
" Ahem," he said, — " wliich is the way to begin a
wonderful story : Once upon a time a young man,
longing to fight for his king by land alone, and with
special fighting of his own to do hard by " — (here De
Casson looked at him keenly and a singular light
came into his eyes) — " was wheedled away upon the
king's ships to France, and so —

• Left the song of th*- ijinning-wheol,
The hawk and t^o lady lair,
And sailed away '

But th^^ song is old and so is the story, abbe ; so

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOUD.

: •!

here's <he brief note of it. After years of p'ay aitd
^vork--p)ay in France and stout work in the Hpan-
iards' country — lie was shipped away to —

' Those battled heights, Quebec heights, our own heights,
The citadel our golden lily bears,
And Frontenac '

But 1 babble again. And at Quebec he finds the old
song changed. The heights and the lilies are there,
but Frontenac, the great, brave Frontenac, is gone :
confusion lives where only conquest and honest quar-
relling were "

" Frontenac will return — there is no other witv ! "
interposed De Casson.

" Perhaps. And the young man looked round
and lo! old faces and places had changed. (Miililren
had grown into women, with children at their breasts;
young wives had become matronly ; and the middle-
aged were slaving servants i- vi apothecaries to make
them young again. And the young man turned from
the world he used to know, and said : " There are but
three thir.gs in the world worth doing — loving, roam-
ing, and fighting. Therefore, after one day, he
turned from the poor little Court-game at Quebec,
travelled to Montreal, spent a few hours with his

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

lle-

|ako

•om

Ibut

im-

>cc,

lliis

father and bis brotliers, Bieaviile, Lonfrurii, Mari-
court, ai^d Sainte-Helene, and then, having sent
word to his dearest friend, came to see him, and
found him " — his voice got softer — " the same as of
old : ready with music and wine and avcs for the
prodigal."

lie paused. The priest had placed meat and wine
on the table, and now he came and put his hand on
Iberville's shoulder. " Pierre," he said, " I welcome
you as one brother might another, the elder foolishly
fond." Then he added, " I was glad you remembered
our music."

" My dear De Casson, .as if I could forget ! I
have yet the Maggini 3'ou gave me. It was of the
tilings for remembering. If we can't be loyal to our
first loves, why to anything?"

"Even so, Pierre; but few at your age arrive ^l
that. Most people learn it when they have bartered
away every dream. It is enough to have a few honest
emotions — very few — and stand by tiiem till all be
done."

*' Even hating?" Iberville's eyes were eager.

" Tliere is such a thing as a noble hate."

*' How every inch of you is man !" answered the

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

other, clasping tiiu priest's arms. Then he added,
"Abbe, you know what I long to hear. You have
been to New York twice; you wore there within
these three months—

»>

"And was asked to leave within these three
months — banished, as it were ! "

" I know. You said in your letter that you had
news. You were kind to go — — "

" Perrot went too."

" My faithful Perrot ! I was about to ask of him.
I had a birch-bark letter from him, and he said he
would come Ah, here he is ! "

He listened. There was a man's voice singing
near by. They could even hear the words —

"•O the young seigneur! the young seigneur!
A hundred bucks in a day he slew ;
And the lady gave him a ribbon to wear,
And a shred of gold from her golden hair —
O the way of a mnid was the way he knew ;
the young seigneur ! the young seigneur ! ' "

" Shall we spe{»k freely before him ? " said the
pri»'si

" As f reoly sTs you will. Perrot is true. Tie was
with me too at ihe beginning."

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

:hc

vas

At that moment there came a knock, and in an
instant the coureur cle bois had caught the hands of
the young man, and was laughing up in his face.

" By the good Sainte Anne, but you make Nick
Perrot a dwarf, dear monsieur ! "

" Well, well, little man, I'll wager neither the
great abbe here nor myself could bring you lower
than you stand, for all that. Comrade, 'tis kind of
you to come so prompt."

" What is there so good as the face of an old
friend ! " said Perrot. with a little laugh. " You will
drink with a new, and eat with a coming friend, and
quarrel with either ; but 'tis only the old friend that
knows the old trail, and there's notliing to a man like
tlie way he has come in the world."

" The trail of the good comrado," said the priest
softly.

" Ah ! " responded Perrot, " I remember, abbe,
when we were at the Portnouf you made some verses
of that — eh ! eh ! but they were good ! "

" No fitter time," said Iberville ; " c^mc, abbe, the
verses ! "

'• No, no; another day," answered the priest.

It was an interesting scene. Perrot, short, broad,

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

li I

I f

swarthy, dressed in rude buckskin gaudily orna-
mented, bandolier and belt garnished with silver, — a
recent gift of some grateful merchant, — standing be-
tween the powerful black-robed priest and this gal-
lant sailor-soldier, richly dressed in fine skins and
lurs, with long waving hair, more like a Viking than
a man of fashion, and carrying a courtly and yet
sportive look, as though he could laugh at the miser-
ies of the sinful world. Three strange comrades were
these, who knew each other so far as one man can
know another, yet each knowing from a different
standpoint. Pcrrot knew certain traits of Ibcrvilie
of which De Casson was ignorant, and the abbe
knew many depths which Perrot never even vaguely
plumbed. And yet all could meot and be free in
speech, as though each read the other throughly.

" Let us begin," said Iberville. " I want news of
Ntw York."

" Let us eat as we talk," urged the abbe.

They all sat and were soon eating and drinking
with great relish.

Presently the abbe began —

" Of my first journey yon know by the letter I
sent you : how I found that Mademoiselle Leveret

FIIIKNDS IN COUNCIL.

:mg

ler I
feret

was gone to England with her father. Tliat was a
year after you left, now about three years gone.
Monsieur Gering entered the navy of the English
king and went to England also."

Iberville nodded. " Yes, yes, in the English navy;
I know very well of that."

The abbe looked up surprised. " From my let-
ter?"

" I saw him once in the Spaniards' country," said
Iberville, " when we swore to love each other less and
less."

" What was the trouble?" asked the priest.

"Pirates' boot^, which he, with a large force,
seized as a few of my men were carrying it to the
coast. With his own hand he cut down my servant,
who had been with me since from the llrst. After-
wards in a parley I saw him, and we exchanged —
compliments. The sordid gentleman thought I was
fretting about the booty. Good God ! what arc some
thousand pistoles to the blood of one honest friend ? "

" And in your minds another leaven worked," ven-
tured the priest.

" Another leaven, as you say," responded Iberville.
" So, for your story, abbe."

TflE TKAIL OF THE SWORD.

" Of the first journey there is nothing more to tell,
save that the English governor said you were as brave
a gentleman as over played ambassador — which was,
you remember, much in Count Frontenac's vein."

Iberville .nodded and smiled. " Frontenac railed
at my impertinence also.'*

" But gave you a sword when you told him the
news of Kadisson," interjected Perrot. " And bye and
bye I've things to say of him ! "

The abbe continued — " For my second visit, but a
few months ago. We priests have gone much among
the Iroquois, even in the English country, and, as I
promised you, I went to New York. There I was
summoned to the governor. He commanded me to
go back to Quebec. I was about to ask him of Made-
moiselle when there came a tap at the door. The
governor looked at mo a little sharply. * You are,'
said he, *a friend of Monsieur Iberville. You shall
know one who keeps him in remembrance.' Then he
let the lady enter. She had heard that I was there,
having seen Perrot first."

Here Perrot, witli a cliuckle, broke in — " I chanced
that way, and I had a wish to see what was for seeing ;
for here was our good abbe alone among the wolves,

KKIKNDS IN COUNCIL.

was

mo to

Made-

The

are,'

sliall

Dn he

here,

and there were Uadisdon and the iminortai Bucklaw,
of whom there was news."

De Casson still continued — " When I was presented
she took my hand and said, ' Monsieur I'Abb^, I am
glad to meet a friend — an old friend — of Monsieur
Iberville. 1 hear that ho has been in France and else-
where.' "

Here tlie abbe paused, smiling as if in retrospect,
and kept looking into the fire and turning about in
his hand his cassock-cord.

Iberville had sat very still, liis face ruled to quiet-
ness; only his eyes showing the great interest he felt.
He waited, and presently said, " Yes, and then?"

The abbe withdrew his eyes from the fire and
turned them upon Iberville.

" And then," he said, " tlie governor left the room.
When he had gone she came to me and, laying her
hand upon my arm, said, * Monsieur, I knov; you are
to be trusted. You are the friend of a brave man.' "

The abbe paused, and smiled over at Iberville.

" You see," he said, " her trust was m your friend,
not in my ofTice. Well, presently she added, ' I know
that Monsieur Iberville and Mr. Goring, for a foolish
quarrel of years ago, still are cherished foes. I wish

ill

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Corporation

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^.^<t

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WEBSTER, N.Y. t4SS0

(716) 872-4903

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

your help to make tliera both happier ; for no man can
be happy and hate.' And I gave my word to do so."

Here Perrot chuckled to himself and interjected
softly, " Mon Dieu ! she could make a man say any-
thing at all. 1 would have sworn to her that while I
lived I never should fight. Eh, that's so ! "

'"''Allans! " said Iberville impatiently, yet grasping

the arm of the woodsman kindly.

The abbe once more went on — " When she had
ended questioning I said to her, ' And what message
shall I give from you?' *Tell him,' she answered,
* by the right of lifelong debt I ask for peace.' * Is
that all ? ' said I. * Tell him,' she added, * I hope we
may meet again.' * For whose sake,' said I, * do you
ask for peace ? ' ' I am a woman,' she answered, ' 1
am selfish — for my own.' "

Again the priest paused, and again Iberville urged
him.

" I asked if she had no token. There was a flame
in her typ, and she begged me to excuse her. When
she came back she handed me a little packet. * Give
it to Monsieur Iberville,' she said, ' for it is his. He
lent it to me years ago. No doubt he has for-
gotten.' "

Give

He
for-

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

At that the priest drew from his cassock a tiny
packet, and Iberville, taking, opened it. It held a
silver buckle tied by a velvet ribbon. A flush crept
slowly up Iberville's face from his chin to his hair,
then he sighed, and presently, out of all reason,
laughed.

" Indeed, yes ; it is mine," he said. " I very well
remember when I found it."

Here Perrot spoke. " I very well remember, mon-
sieur, when she took it from your doublet ; but it was
on a slipper then ! "

Iberville did not answer, but held the buckle, rub-
bing it on his sleeve as though to brighten it. " So
much for the lady," he said at last ; " what more ? "

" I learned," answered the abbe, " that Monsieur
Gering was in Boston, and that he was to go to Fort
Albany at Hudson's Bay, where, on our territory, the
English have set forts."

Here Perrot spoke. " Do you know, monsieur,
who are the poachers ? No ? Eh ? No ? Well, it is
that Radisson ! "

Iberville turned sharply upon Perrot. " Are you
sure of that ? " he said. " Are you sure, Nick ? "

" As sure as I've a head. And I will tell you

',^m

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

more : Radisson was with Bucklaw at the kidnapping.
I had the pleasure to kill a fellow of Bucklaw's, and
he told me that before he died. He also told how
Bucklaw went with Radisson to the Spaniard's
country treasure-hunting. Ah ! there are many fools
in the world. They did not get the treasure. They
quarrelled, and Radisson went to the far north, Buck-
law to the far south. The treasure is where it was.
Eh Men ! Such is the way of asses."

Iberville was about to speak.

" But wait," said Perrot, with a slow, tantalising
smile ; " it is not wise to hurry. I have a mind to
know ; so while I am at New York I go to Boston.
It makes a man's mind great to travel. I have
been east to Boston, I have been west beyond the
Ottawa and the Michilimackinac, out to the Mis-
sissippi. Yes. Well, what did I find in Boston?
Peste! I found that they were all like men in
purgatory — sober and grave. Truly ! And so dull !
Never a saint-day, never a feast, never a grand
council when the wine, the rum, flow so free, and you
shall eat till you choke. Nothing. Everything is
stupid ; they do not smile. And so the Indians make
war ! Well, I have found this. There is a great man

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

ippmg.
7% and
Id how
miard's
ly fools
They
, Buck-
it was.

italising
mind to
Boston.
I have
nd the
lie Mis-

oston ?

en in

lo dull !

grand

nd you
ing is

s make

lat man

from the Kennebec called William Phips. He has
traded in the Indies. Once while he was there he
heard of that treasure. Ha ! ha ! There have been
so many fools on that trail. The governor of New
York was a fool when Bucklaw played his game ; he
would have been a greater if he had gone with Buck-
law."

Here Iberville would have spoken, but Perrot
waved his hand. "De grace, a minute only. Mon-
sieur Gering, the brave English lieutenant, is at Hud-
son's Bay, and next summer he will go with the great
William Phips — Tonnerre — what a name — William
Pliips! Like a pot of herring! He will go with
him after the same old treasure. Boston is a big
place, but I hear these things."

Usually a man of few words, Perrot had bursts of
eloquence, and this was one of them. But having
made his speech, he settled back to his tobacco and
into the orator's earned repose.

Iberville looked up from the fire and said, "Perrot,
you saw her in New York. What speech was there
between you ? "

Perrot's eyes twinkled. "There was not much
said. I put myself in her way. When she saw me

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

! ■

i I

her cheek came like a peach-blossom. * A very good
morning, ma'm'selle,' said I, in English. She smiled
and said the same. * And your master, where is he ? '
she asked with a fine smile. *My friend Monsieur
Iberville ? ' I said ; ' ah ! he will be in Quebec soon.'
Then I told her of the abbe, and she took from a
chain a little medallion and gave it me in memory of
the time we saved her. And before I could say. Thank
you, she had gone. Well, that is all — except this."

He drew from his breast a chain of silver, from
which hung the gold medallion, and shook his head
at it with good-humour. But presently a hard look
came on his face, and he was changed from the cheer-
ful woodsman into the chief of bushrangers. Iber-
ville read the look, ai d presently said —

" Perrot, men ha\ e fought for less than gold from
a woman's chain and a buckle from her shoe."

"I have fought from Trois Pistoles to Michili-
mackinac for the toss of a louis-d'or."

" As you say. Well, what think you "

Ke paused, rose, walked up and down the room,
caught his moustache between his teeth once or twice,
and seemed buried in thought. Once or twice he was
about to speak, but changed his mind. He was cal-

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

ihili-

culating many things . planning, counting chances,
marshalling his resources. Presently he glanced
round the room. His eyes fell on a map. That was
it. It was a mere outline, but enough. Putting his
finger on it, he sent it up, up, up, till it settled on the
shores of Hudson's Bay. Again he ran the finger
from the St. Lawrence up the coast and through
Hudson's Straits, but shook his head in negation.
Then he stood, looked at the map steadily, and pres-
ently, still absorbed, turned to the table. He saw the
violin. He picked it up and handed it to De Casson.

" Something with a smack of war," he said.

" And a woman for me," added Perrot.

The abb6 shook his head musingly at Perrot, took
the violin, and gathered it to his chin. At first he
played as if in wait of something that eluded him.
But all at once he floated into a powerful melody, as
a creek trails softly through a weir, and after many
wanderings all at once broadens suddenly into a great
stream. He had found his theme. Its effect was
striking. Through Iberville's mind there ran a hun-
dred incidents of his life, one chasing upon the other
without sequence — phantasmagoria out of the scene-
house of memory : —

I ,

..■•

!||!

THE TUAIIi OF THE SWOKD.

The light upon the arms of De Tracy's soldiers
when they marched up Mountain Street many years
before — The frozen ligure of a man standing upright
in the plains — A procession of canoes winding down
past Two Mountains, the wild chant of the Indians
joining with the romantic songs of the voyageurs — A
girl flashing upon the drawn swords of two lads —
King Louis giving his hand to one of these lads to
kiss — A lady of the Court for whom he might easily
have torn his soul to rags, but for a fair-faced English
girl, ever like a delicate medallion in his eye — A fight
with the English in the Spaniards' country — His
father blessing him as he went forth to France — A
dark figure taking a hundred shapes, and yet always
meaning the same as when he — Iberville — said over
the governor's table in New York, " Foolish boy ! " —
A vast stretch of lonelv forest, in the white coverlet
of winter, through which sounded now and then the
ioom-boom of a bursting tree — A few score men upon
a desolate northern track, silent, desperate, coura-
geous ; a forlorn hope on the edge of the Arctic circle,
with the joy of conquest in their bones, and at their
thighs the swords of men.

These are a few of the pictures, but the last of

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

them had not to do with the past: a dream grown
into a fact, shaped by the music, become at once an
emotion and a purpose.

Iberville had now driven home the first tent-peg
of a wonderful adventure. Under the spell of that
music his body seemed to grow larger. He fingered
his sword J and presently caught Perrot by the shoulder
and said, " We will do it, Perrot ! "

Perrot got to his feet. He understood. He nod-
ded and seized Iberville's hand. " Bravo ! There
was nothing else to do," he replied.

De Casson lowered his violin. ** What do you
intend?" hfc asked gravely.

Iberville took his great hand and pressed it. " To
do what you will commend, abb6 : at Hudson's Bay
to win back forts the English have taken, and get
those they have built."

"You have another purpose," added De Oasson
softly.

"Abbe, that is between me and my conscience;
I go for my king and country against our
foes."

" Who will go with you?— You will lead?"

" Not I to Ictid — that involves me." Iberville's

!1 i ■

THE TUAIL OF TllK SWOKD.

face darkened. "I wish more freedom, but still to
lead in fact."

" But who will lead ? And who will go ? "

" De Troyes, perhaps, to lead. To go, my brothers
Sainte-llelene and Maricourt, Perrot and a stout
company of his men; and then I fear not treble as
many English."

The priest did not seem satisfied. Presently Iber-
ville, with a winning smile, ran an arm over his
shoulder and added, " We cannot go without you,
Dollier."

The priest's face cleared, and a moment afterwards
the three comrades shook hands together.

1 to

bers
tout
3 as

ber-

his

^ou,

irds

CHAPTER VIII.

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY.

When King Louis and King James called for
peace, they could not know that it was as little pos-
sible to their wo colonies as between rival buccaneers.
New France was full of bold spirits who loved con-
quest for conquest's sake. Besides, in this case there
was a force at work, generally unknown, but as pow-
erful as the convincing influence of an army. Behind
the worst and the best acts of Charles II was a wom-
an. Behind the glories and follies' of Louis XIV was
also a woman. Behind some of the most striking
incidents in the history of New France, New Eng-
land, and New York, was a woman.

We saw her when she was but a child — the centre
of singular events. Yearj had passed. Not one of
those events had gone for nothing ; each was bearing
fruit after its kind.

(98)

'1!

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOIID.

! I:

Sho is sitting alono in a room of a large, un-
handsome house, facing on Boston Harbour. It is
evening. Tlie room itself is of dark wood, and even-
ing has thrown it into gloom. Yet somehow the girl's
face has a light of its own. She is turned fair to-
wards the window, and is looking out to sea. A mist
is rising from the water, and the shore is growing
grey and heavy as the light in Qie west recedes and
night creeps in fr^m the ocean. She watches the
waves and the mist till all is mist without; a scene
which sho had watched, how often she could not
count. The night closes in entirely upon her, but
she does not move. At last the door of the room
opens and someone enters and closes it again.

" My daughter ! " says an anxious voice. "Are you
here, Jessica ? "

" I am here, father," is the reply.

"Shall we have lights?"

" As you will."

Even as they speak a servant enters, and lighted
candles are put upon the table. They are alone
again. Both are pale. The girl stands very still,
and so quiet is her face, one could never guess that
she is passing through the tragic moment of her life.

AS SEEN THUOUGII A GLASS DARKLY. 95

** What is your answer, Jessica?" ho asks.

" I will marry him when ho comes back."

" Thank God ! " is the old man's acknowledg-
ment. " You have saved our fortunes ! "

The girl sighs, and then, with a little touch
of that demure irony which wo had seen in her
years before, says, " I trust we have not lost our
honour."

" Why, you love him, do you not ? There is no
one you care for more than George Gering? "

" I suppose not," is her reply, but the tone is enig-
matical.

• • • • • • •

While this scene is on, another appears in Cheap-
side, London. A man of bold and vigorous bearing
comes from the office of a well-known solicitor. That
very morning he had had an interview with the King,
and had been reminded with more exactness than
kindness that he had cost King Charles a ship, scores
of men, and thousands of pounds, in a fruitless search
for buried treasure in Hispaniola. When he had
urged his case upon the basis of fresh information, he
was drily told that the security was too scant, even
for a king. He had then pleaded his case to the

• ii

a !

();,'<

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

Duke of Albemarle and other distinguished gentle-
men. They were seemingly convinced, but withheld
their answer till the following morning.

Bat William Phips, stubborn adventurer, destined
to receive all sorts of honours in his time, has no in-
tention of quitting London till he has his way ; and
this is his thought as he steps into Cheapside, having
already made preparations upon the chance of suc-
cess. He has gone so far as to purchase a ship, called
the Bridgwater Merchant, from an alderman in Lon-
don, though he has not a hundred guineas at his dis-
posal. As he stands debating a hand touches his arm
and a voice says in his ear, " You were within a mile
of it with the Algier Eose, two years ago."

The great adventurer turns. " The devil I was !
And who are you ? '*

Satanic humour plays in the stranger's eyes ''s he
answers, " I am Edward Bucklaw, pirate and keeper
of the treasure-house in the La Planta River."

" Blood of Judas ! " Phips says, " how dare you
speak to me ? Pll have you in yon prison for an un-
hung rascal ! "

" Ah ! you are a great man," is the unmoved re-
ply. " I knew you'd feel that way. But if you'll

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY. 97

listen for five minuios, down here at the BuU-and-
Daisy, there shv . be peace between us."

Aq hour later, Phips, following Bucklaw's instruc-
tions, is tracing on a map the true location of the lost
galleon's treasure.

" Then," says Bucklaw, " we are comrades ? "

" We are adventurers."

■i ■■;i

you
un-

Another scene. In a northern inland sea two men
are standing on the deck of a ship : the one stalwart,
clear-eyed, with a touch of strong reserve in face and
manner ; the other of middle height, with sinister
look. The former is looking out silently upon the ^
great locked hummocks of ice surrounding the vessel.
It is the early morning. The sun is shining with
that hard brightness only seen in the Arctic world, —
keen as silver, cold as steel. It plays upon the hum-
mocks, and they send out shafts of light at fantastic
angles, and a thin blue line runs between the almost
unbearable general radiance and the sea of ice stretch-
ing indefinitely away. But to the west is a shore, and
on it stands a fort and a few detached houses. Upon
the walls of the fort are some guns, and the British
flag is flying above. Beyond these again are the

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

plains of the north — the home of the elk, musk-ox,
silver fox, the white bear and the lonely races of the
Pole. Here and there, in the south-west, an island of
pines breaks the monotony, but to the north there is
only the white silence, the terrible and yet beautiful
trail of the Arctic.

The smaller man stands swinging his amis for
warmth ; the smack of the leather in the clear air like
the report of a gun. Presently, stopping his exercise,
he says : —

" Well, monsieur, what do you say ? "

Slowly the young man withdraws his eyes from
the scene and turns.

" Radisson," he says, " this is much the same story
as Bucklaw told Governor Nicholls. How come you
to know of it ? "

" You remember, I was proclaimed four years ago ?
Well, afterwards I fell in with Bucklaw. I sailed with
him to the Spaniards' country, and we might have got
the treasure, but we quarrelled ; there was a fight, and
I — well, we end. Bucklaw was taken by the French
ard was carried to France. He was a fool to look for
the treasure with a poor ship and a worse crew. He
was for getting William Phips, a man of Boston, to

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY. 99

work with him, for Phips had got something of the
secret from an old sailor, but when he would have
got him, Phips was on his way with a ship 01 King
Charles's. I will tell you something more. Made-
moiselle Leveret's—

I »»

" What do you know of Mademoiselle Leveret ?

" A little. Mademoiselle's father lost much money
in Phips' expedition."

" How know you that ? "

" I have ears. You have promised to go with
Phips. Is it not so ? "

« What then ? "

" I will go with you."

« Booty ? "

" No, revenge.'*

"On whom?"

" The man you hate — Iberville."

Gering's face darkens. " We are not likely to
meet."

^^ Pardon! very likely. Six months ago he was
coming back from France. He will find you. I
know the race."

A sneer is on Gering's face. "Freebooters, out-
laws like yourself ! "

•'i

t . t '.

McMASIER UNIVERSin UBRARY

100

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

" Not so, gentlemen, monsieur ; noble outlaws.
What is it that once or twice they have quarrelled
with the governor, and because they would not yield
have been proclaimed ? Nothing. Proclaimed yester-
day, to-day at Court. No, no ; I hate Iberville, but he
is a great man."

In the veins of the renegade is still latent the
pride of race. He is a villain, but he knows the
height from which he fell. " He will find you, mon-
sieur," he repeats. " When a Le Moyne is the hunter
he never will kennel till the end. Besides, there is
the lady!"

" Silence ! "

Radisson knows that he has said too much. His
manner changes. " You will let me go with you ? "

The Englishman remembers that this scoundrel
was with Bucklaw, although he does not know that
Radisson was one of the abductors.

" Never ! " he says, and turns upon his heel.

A moment after and the two have disappeared
from the lonely pageant of ice and sun. Man has

disappeared, but his works — houses and ships and
walls and snow-topped cannon — lie there in the hard
grasp of the North, Avhile the White Weaver, at the

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS DARKLY. 101

summit of the world, is shuttling these lives into the

woof of battle, murder and sudden death.

• ••••••

On the shore of the La Planta River a man lies
looking into the sunset. So sweet, so beautiful is the
landscape, — the deep foliage, the scent of flowers, the
flutter of bright- winged birds, the fern-grown walls of a
ruined town, the wallowing eloquence of the river, the
sonorous din of the locust, — that none could think this
a couch of death. A Spanish priest is making ready
for that last long voyage, when the soul of man sloughs
the dross of earth. Beside him kneels another priest
— a Frenchman of the same order.

The dying man feebly takes from his breast a
packet and hands it to his friend.

" It is as I have said," he whispers. " Others may
guess, but I know. I know — and another. The rest
are all dead. There were six of us, and all were killed
save myself. We were poisoned by a Spaniard. He
thought he had killed all, but I lived. He also was
killed by one Bucklaw, au English pirate. He \as
the secret. Once he came with a ship to find, but
there was trouble and he did not go on. An English-
man also came with the king's ship, but he did not

102

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

find. But I know that the man Bucklaw will come

again. It should not be. Listen : A year ago, and
something more, I was travelling to the coast. From

there I was to sail for Spain. I had lost the chart of

the river then. I was taken ill and I should have

died, but a young French officer stayed his men beside

me and cared for me, and had me carried to the coast,

where I recovered. I did not go to Spain, and I found

the chart of the river again."

There is a pause, in which the deep breathing of
the dying man mingles with the low wash of the river,
and presently he speaks agtiin. " I vowed then that
he should know. As God is our Father, swear that
you will give this packet to himself only."

The priest, in reply, lifts the crucifix from the
dying man's breast and puts his lips to it. The
world seems not to know, so cheerful is it all, that,
with a sob, — that sob of farewell which the soul gives
the body, — the spirit of a man is passing the mile-
posts called Life, Time, and Eternity.

Yet another glance into passing incidents before
we follow the straight trail of our story. In the city
of Montreal fourscore men are kneeling in a little

AS SEEN THKOUGU A GLASS DARKLY. 103

c?iurch, as the mass is slowly chanted at the altar.
All of them are armed. By the flare of the torches
and ihe candles — for it is not daybreak yet — you can
see the flash of a scabbard, the glint of a knife, and
the sheen of a bandolier.

Presently, from among them, one man rises, goes
to the steps of the sanctuary and kneels. He is the
leader of the expedition, the Chevalier de Troyes, the
chosen of the governor. A moment, and three other
men rise and come and kneel beside him. These are
three brothers, and one we know — gallant, imperious,
cordial, having the superior ease of the courtier.

The four receive a blessing from a massive, hand-
some priest, whose face, as it bends over Iberville, sud-
denly flushes with feeling. Presently the others rise,
but Iberville remains an instant longer, as if loth to
leave. The priest whispers to him, "Be strong, be
just, be merciful."

The young man lifts his eyes to the priest's. " I
will be just, abbe ! "

Then the priest makes the sacred gesture over him.

'|.:

]

CHAPTER IX.

TO THE PORCH OF THE WORLD.

The English colonies never had a race of woods-
men like the coureurs de hois of New France. These
were a strange mixture : French peasants, half-breeds
Canadian-born Frenchmen, gentlemen of birth with
lives and fortunes gone askew, and many of th native
Canadian noblesse, who, like the nobles of France,
forbidden to become merchants, became adventurers
with the coureurs de bois, who were ever with them
in spirit more than with the merchant. The peasant
prefers the gentleman to the bourgeois as his compan-
ion. Many a coureur de hois divided his tale of furs
with a distressed noble or seigneur, who dare not work
in the fields.

The veteran Charles le Moyne, with his sons, each
of whom played a daring and important part in the
history of New France, — Iberville greatest, — was one
of the few merchants in whom was combined the

(104)

TO THE PORCn OF THE WORLD.

105

ich
the
me
the

trader and the noble. But he was a tiader by pro-
fession before he became a seigneur. In his veins
was a strain of noble blood ; but, leaving France and
settling in Canada, he avoided the little Court at
Quebec, went to Montreal, and there began to lay the
foundation of his fame and fortune, and to send forth
men wh ^ were as the sons of Jacob. In his heart he
was always in sympathy with the woodsmen, and when
they were proclaimed as perilous to the peace and
prosperity of the king's empire, he stood stoutly by
them. Adventurers, they traded as they listed ; and
when the Intendant Duchesnau could not bend them
to his greedy will, they were to be caught and hanged
wherever found. King Louis hardly guessed that to
carry out that order would be to reduce greatly the
list of his Canadian noblesse. It struck a blow at the
men who, in one of the letters which the grim Fron-
tenac sent to Versailles not long before his death, were
rightly called " The King's Traders " — more truly
such than any others in New France.

Whether or not the old seigneur knew it at the
time, three of his own sons were among the cotireurs
de hois — chieftains by courtesy — when they were pro-
claimed. And it was like Iberville, that, then only a

'11

;|i

106

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

lad, he came in from the woods, went to his father,
and astonished him by asking for his blessing. Then
he started for Quebec, .' . riving there with Perrot
and Du Lhut, went to the citadel at night and asked
to be admitted to Count Frontenac. Perhaps the
governor — grand half-barbarian as he was at heart —
guessed the nature of the visit and before he admitted
Iberville, dismissed those who were with him. There
is in an old letter still preserved by an ancient family
of France, an account of this interview, told by a
cynical young nobleman. Iberville alone was ad-
mitted. His excellency greeted his young visitor
courteously, yet with hauteur.

"You bring strange comrades to visit your gov-
ernor. Monsieur Iberville," he said.

" Comrades in peace, your excellency, comrades in
war."

"What war?"

" The king makes war against the coureurs de hois.
There is a price on the heads of Perrot and Du Lhut.
We are all in the same boat."

" You speak in riddles, sir."

" I speak of riddles. Perrot and Du Lhut are
good friends of the king. They have helped your

TO THE PORCFI OF THE WOULD.

107

excellency with the Indians a score of times. Their
men have been a little roystering, but that'n no sin.
I am one with them, and I am as good a subject as
the king has."

" Why have you come here ? "

" To give myself up. If you shoot Perrot or Du
Lhut you will have to shoot me ; and, if you curry on
the matter, your excellency will not have enough gen-
tlemen to play Tar tuff e.'''*

This last remark referred to a quarrel which Fron-
tenac had had with the bishop, who inveighed against
the governor's intention of producing Tartuffe at the
chateau.

Iberville's daring was quite as remarkable as the
position in which he had place'^ himself. With a
lesser man than Frontenac it might have ended badly.
But himself, courtier as he was, had ever used hero-
ical methods, and appreciated the reckless courage of
youth. With grim humour he put all three under
arrest, made them sup with him, and sent them away
secretly before morning — free. Before Iberville left,
the governor had word with him alone.

"Monsieur," he said, "you have a keen tongue,
but our king needs keen swords, and since you have

;

108

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

the advantage of me in this, I shall take care you pay
the bill. AVe have had enough of outlawry. You
shall figlit by rule and measure soon."

" In your excellency's bodyguard, I hope," was the
instant reply.

" In the king's navy," answered Frontenac, with a
smile, for he was pleased with the frank flattery.

A career different from that of George Gering,
who, brought up with Puritans, had early learned to
take life seriously, had little of Iberville's gay spirit,
but was just such a determined, self-conscious Eng-
lishman as anyone could trust and admire, and none
but an Englishman love.

And Jessica Leveret? Wherever she had been
during the past four years, she had stood between
these two men, regardful, wondering, waiting ; and at
last, as we know, casting the die against the enemy of
hei' country. But was it cast after all ?

Inmediately after she made a certain solemn
promise, recorded in the last chapter, she went once
again to New York to visit Governor Nicholls. She
had been there some months before, but it was only
for a few weeks, and then she had met Dollier de
Casson and Perrot. That her mind was influenced

TO THE PORCH OF TJIK WOULD.

109

by memory of Iberville we may guess, but in whut
fashion who can say? It is not in mortal man to
resolve the fancies of women or interpret the shadowy
inclinations, the timid revulsions, which move them —
they cannot tell why, any more than we. They would
indeed be thankful to bo solved unto themselves.
The great moment for a man with a woman is when,
by some clear guess or some special providence, he
shows her in a flash her own mind. Her respect, her
serious wonder, are all then making for his glory.
Wise and happy if by a further touch of genius he
seizes the situation : henceforth he is her master.
George Gering and Jessica had been children to-
gether, and he understood her, perhaps, as did no one
else, save her father ; though he never made good use
of his knowledge, nor did he touch that side of her
which was purely feminine — her sweet inconsistency ;
therefore, he was not her master.

But he had appealed to her, for he had courage,
strong ambition, thorough kindness^ and fine char-
acter, only marred by a want of temperament. She
had avoided as long as she could the question which,
on his return from service in the navy, he asked her,
almost without warning ; and with a touch of her old

i'-'I

110

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

demureness and gayety, she had put him off, bidding
him go win his laurels as commander. He was then
commissioned for Hudson's Bay, and expected, on his
return, to proceed to the Spaniards' country with
William Phips, if that brave gentleman succeeded
with the king or his nobles. He had gone north with
his ship, and, as we have seen, when Iberville started
on that almost impossible journey, was preparing to
return to Boston. As he waited Iberville came on.

CHAPTER X.

QUI vive!

From Land's End to John o'Groat's is a long
tramp, but that from Montreal to Hudson's Bay is far
longer, and yet many have made it ; more, however,
in the days of which we are writing than now, and
with greater hardships also then. But weighed
against the greater hardships there was a bolder tem-
per and a more romantic spirit.

How strange and severe a journey it was, only
those can tell who have travelled those wastes, even in
these later days, when paths have been beaten down
from Mount Royal to the lodges of the North. When
they started, the ice had not yet all left the Ottawa
River, and they wound their way through crowding
floes, or portaged here and there for miles, the eager
sun of spring above with scarcely a cloud to trail be-
hind him. At last the river cleared, and for leasrues

they travelled to the north-west, and canu at last to

(111)

112

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

the Lake of the Winds. They travelled across one
corner of it, to a point where they would strike an
unknown path to Hudson's Bay.

Iberville had never before seen this lake, and, with
all his knowledge of great proportions, he was not
prepared for its splendid vastness. They came upon
it in the evening, and camped beside it. . They
watched the sun spread out his banners, presently veil
his head in them, and sink below the world. And
between them and that sunset was a vast rock stretch-
ing out from a ponderous shore — a colossal stone lion,
resting Sphinx-like, keeping its faith with the ages.
Alone, the warder of the West, stormy, menacing,
even the vernal sun could give it little cheerfulness.
But to Iberville and his followers it brought no gloom
at night, nor yet in the morning when all was
changed, and a soft, silver mist hung over the " great
water," like dissolving dew, through which the sun-
light came with a strange solemn delicacy. Upon the
shore were bustle, cheerfulness, and song, until every
canoe was launched, and then the band of warriors
got in, and presently were away in the haze.

The long bark canoes, with lofty prows, stained
with powerful dyes, slid along this path swiftly, the

QUI VIVE I

113

paddlea noiselessly cleaving the water with the pre-
cision of a pendulum. One followed the other with a
space between, so that Iberville, in the first, looking
back, could see a diminishing procession, the last
seeming large and weird — almost a shadow — as it
were a part of the weird atmosphere. Jn either
side was that soft plumbless diffusion, and ahead
the secret of un travelled wilds and the fortunes
of war.

As if by common instinct, all gossip ceased soon
after they left the shore, and, cheer'iul as was the
French Canadian, he was — and is — superstitious. He
saw sermons in stones, books in the running brooks,
and the supernatural in everything. Simple, hardy,
occasionally bloody, he was ever on the watch for
signs and wonders ; and a phase of nature influenced
him after the manner of a being with a temperament.
Often as some of the woodsmen and rivermen had
seen this strange effect, they now made the sacred
gesture as they ran on. The pure moisture lay like a
fine exudation on their brown skins, glistened on
their black hair, and hung from their beards, g' ving
them a mysterious look. The colours of their canoes
and clothes were softened by the dim air and long

i ■!

114

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

use, and there seemed to accompany each boat and
each person an atmosphere within this other haze, a
spiritual kind of exhalation ; so that one might have
thought them, with the crucifixes on their breasts and
that unworldly, distinguished look which comes to
those who live much with nature, as sons of men
going upon such mission as did they who went into
the far land with Arthur.

But the silence could not be maintained for long.
The first flush of the impression gone, these half-
barbarians, with the simple hearts of children, must
rise from the almost melancholy, somewhat religious,
mood into which they had been cast. As Iberville,
with Sainte-Helene and Perrot, sat watching the
canoes that followed, with voyageurs erect in bow and
stern, a voice in the next canoe, with a half-chanting
modulation, began a song of wild-life. Voice after
voice slowly took it up, until it ran along the whole
procession. A verse was sung, then a chorus alto-
gether, then a refrain of one verse which was sung by
each boat in succession to the last. As the refrain of
this was sung by the last boat it seemed to come out
of the great haze behind. Verses of the old song are
still preserved —

:%f^-

'^^ir;^a

QUI VIVE! 115

" Qui vive !
Who is it cries in the dawn —
Cries when the stars go down I
Who is it comes through the mist —
The mist that is fine like lawn,
The mist like an angel's gownf
Who is it comes in the dawnf •

Qui vive ! Qui vive ! in the dawn.

" Q\ii vive !
Who is it passeth us by,
Still in the dawn and the mistf
Tall seigneur of the dawn :
A two-edged sword at his thigh,
A shield of gold at his wrist:
Who is it hurrieth by ?

Qui vive ! Qui vive ! in the dawn."

Under the influence of this beautiful mystery of
the dawn, the slow thrilling song, and the strange,
happy loneliness — as though they were in the wash
between two worlds, Iberville got the great inspiration
of his life. He would be a discoverer, the faithful
captain of his king, a trader in provinces. . . .
And in that he kept his word — years after ; but he
kept it. There came with this, what always comes to
a man of great ideas : the woman who should share
his prowess. Such a man if forced to choose between

\ f

lie

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

the woman and the idea, will ever decide for the
woman after he has married her, sacrificing what —
however much he hides it — lies behind all. But he
alone kncAvs what he has sacrificed. For it is in the
order of things that the great man shall be first the
maker of kingdoms and homes, and then the husband
of his wife and a begetter of children. Iberville
knew that this woman was not more to him than the
feeling just come to him, but he knew also that while
the one remained the other would also.

He stood up and folded his arms, looking into the
silence and mist. His hand mechanically dropped to
his sword, and he glanced up proudly to the silver flag
with its golden lilies floating softly on the slight
breeze they made as they passed.

" The sword ! " he said under his breath. - " The
world and a woman by the sword ; there is no other
way."

He had the spirit of his time. The sword was its
faith, its magic. If two men loved a woman, the
natural way to make happiness for all was to let the
sword do its eager office. For they had one of the
least-believed and most unpopular of truths, that a
woman's love is more a matter of mastery and posses-

QUI VIVE!

117

sion than instinct, two men being of comparatively
equal merit — and manners.

His figure seemed to grow larger in the mist, and
the grey haze gave his hair a frosty coating, so that
age and youth seemed strangely mingled in him. He
stood motionless for a long time as the song went on —

" Qui Vive !
Who saileth into the morn,
Out of the wind of the dawn f —
* Follow, oh, follow me on ! '
Calleth a distant horn.
He is here — he is there — he is gone,
Tall seigneur of the dawn I
Qui vive ! Qui vive ! in the dawn."

Someone touched Iberville's arm. It was Dollier
de Casson. Iberville turned to him, but they did not
speak at first — the priest knew his friend well.

" We shall succeed, abb6," Iberville said.

" May our quarrel be a just one, Pierre ! " was the
grave reply.

"The forts are our king's; the man is with my
conscience, my dear friend."

" But if you make sorrow for the woman ? "

" You brought me a gift from her ! " His finger
touched his doublet.

%■:

118

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

>»

- I

" She is English, my Pierre.'

" She is what God made her."

" She may be sworn to the man."

Iberville started, then shook his head incredulously.
** He is not worthy of her."

"Are you ^"

" I know her value better and prize it more."

" You have not seen her for four years."

" I had not seen you for four years — and yet ! "

" You saw her then only for a few days — and she
was so young ! "

" What are days or years ? Things lie deep in us
till some great moment, and then they spring into life
and are ours forever. When I kissed King Louis'
hand I knew that I loved my king ; when De Monte-
span's, I hated, and shall hate always. When I first
saw this English girl I waked from youth, I was born
again into the world. I had no doubts, I have none
now."

"And the man?"

" One knows one's enemy even as the other.
There is no way but this, D oilier. He is the enemy
of my king, and he is greatly in my debt. Remember
the Spaniards' country ! "

(^UI VI VK!

119

He laid a hand upon his sword. The face of the
priest was calm and grave, but in his eyes was a deep
fire. At heart he was a soldier, a loyalist, a gentle-
man of France. Perhaps there came to him then the
dreams of his youth, before a thing happened which
made him at last a servant of the Church after he had
been a soldier of the king.

Presently the song of the voyageurs grew less, the
refrain softened and passed down the long line, and,
as it were, from out of far mists came the muffled
challenge —

'' Qui vive I Qui vive ! in the dawn."

Then a silence fell once more. But presently
from out of the mists there came, as it were, the echo
0^ their challenge —

" Qui vive f Qui vive / in the dawn."

The paddles stilled in the water and a thrill ran
through the line of vo)iij_ 'irs, — even Iberville and his
friends were touched by it.

Then there suddenly emerged from the haze on
their left, ahead of them, a long canoe with tall fig-
ures in bow and stern, using paddles. They wore

long cloaks, and feathers waved from their heads. In
9

IS" I

120

TIIK TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

the centre of the canoe was what 8fc*}med a body
under a pall, at its head and feet small censers. The
smell of the wood came to them, and a little trail of
sweet smoke was left behind as the canoe swiftly
passed into the mist on the other side and was
gone.

It had been seen vaguely. No one spoke, no one
challenged ; it had come and gone like a dream.
What it was, no one, uot even Iberville, could guess,
though he thought it a pilgrimage of burial, such as
was sometimes made by distinguished members of
Indian tribes. Or it may have been — which is like-
ly — a dead priest being carried south by Indian
friends.

The impression left upon the party was, however,
characteristic. There was none but, with the smell of
the censers in his nostrils, made the sacred gesture ; and
had the Jesuit Silvy or the Abbe de Casson been so
disposed, the event might have been made into the
supernatural.

After a time the mist cleared away, and nothing
could be seen on the path they had travelled but the
plain of clear water and the distant shore they had
left. Ahead of them was another shore, and they

QUI VIVE!

121

;liey

reached this at last. Where the mysterious canoe liad
vanished, none could tell.

Days upon days they travelled, with incredible
labour, now portaging over a stubborn country, now
placing their lives in hazard as they shot down un-
travelled rapids.

One day on the Black Wing River a canoe was
torn open and its three occupants were thrown into
the rapids. Two of them were expert swimmers and
were able to catch the stern of another canoe as it ran
by, and reached safe water, bruised but alive. The
third was a boy, Maurice Joval, the youngest of the
party, whom Iberville had been at first loth to bring
with him. But he had remembered his uv/n ambi-
tious youth, and had consented, persuading De Troyes
that the lad was worth encouragement. His canoe
was not far behind when the other ran on ^he rocks.
He saw the lad struggle bravely and strike out, but a
cross current caught him and carried him towards the
steep shore. There he was thrown against a rock.
His strength seemed to fail, but he grasped the rock.
It was scraggy, and though it tore and bruised him he
clung to it.
. Iberville threw off his doublet, and prepared to

ill

122

THE TUAIL OF THE SWOUD.

spring us his bout cuine down. lUit unothcr hud made
ready. It wus the ubbe, with his cassock gone, and
his huge form showing finely. He laid his hand upon
Iberville's arm. " Stay here," he said, "I go ; I am
the stronger."

But Iberville, as cries of warning and appeal rang
out around him, — the drowning lad had not cried out
at all, — sprang into the water. Not alone : tht; abbe
looked around him, made the sacred gesture, and then
sprang also into an eddy a distance below, and at an
angle made his way up towards the two. Priest
though he was, he was also an expert riverman, and
his vast strength served him royally. He saw Iber-
ville tossed here and there but with impossible
strength and good fortune reach the lad. The t^"o
grasped each other and then struck out for the high
shore. De Casson seemed *- know what would hap-
pen. He altered his course, and making for the shore
also at a point below, reached it. He saw with a kind
of despair that it was steep and had no trees, yet his
keen eyes also saw, not far below, the dwarfed bole of
a tree jutting out from the rock. There lay the
chance. Below this was a great turmoil of rapids. A
prayer mechanically passed the priest's lips, though

QUI VIVKI

123

Ins thoughts were tliose of u wurrior then. lie almost
enjoyed the danger for himself : his fear was for Iber-
ville and for the motherless boy.

Ho had guessed and hoped aright. Iberville, sup-
porting the now senseless boy, swung down the mad
torrent, his eyes blinded with blood so that he could
not see. But he heard De Casson's voice, and
with a splendid etlort threw himself and the lad
towards it. The priest also fought upwards to them
and caught them as they came, having reserved his
great strength until now. Throwing his left arm
over the lad he relieved Iberville of his burden, but
called to him to hold on. The blood was flowing into
Iberville's eyes and he could do nothing else. But
now came the fight between the priest and the mad
waters. Once — twice — thrice they went beneath, but
neither Iberville nor himself let go, and to the appre-
hensive cries of their friends there succeeded calls of
delight, for De Casson had seized the jutting bole
and held on. It did not give, and they were safe for
a moment.

A quarter of a mile below there was smoother
water, and soon the canoes were ashore, and Perrot,
Sainte-Helene, and others were running to the rescue.

124

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

They arrived just m time. Ropes were let down, and
the lad was drawn up insensible. Then came the
priest, for Iberville, battered as he was, would not stir
until the abbe had gone up — a stout strain on the
rope. Fortunately there were clefts and fissures in
the wall, which could be used in the ascent. De
Oasson had consented to go first, chiefly because he
wished to gratify the still youthful pride of Iberville,
who thought the soldier should see the priest into
safety. Iberville himself came up slowly, for he was
stiff and his limbs were shaking. His clothes were in
tatters, and his fine face was like that of a warrior
defaced by swords.

But he refused to be carried, and his first care was
for the boy, who had received no mortal injury.

" You have saved the boy, Pierre," said the priest,
la a low voice.

" Self-abasing always, dear abbe ; you saved us
both. By heaven, but the king lost a great man in

you

t»

" Hush ! Mere brawn, Pierre ! ... By the bless-
ing of God," he added quickly.

i'l!

CHAPTER XL

WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLE.

After this came varying days of hardship by land
and water, and then another danger. One day they
were crossing a great northern lake. The land was
moist with the sweat of quick-springing verdure;
flocks of wild fowl rose at all points, and herds of
caribou came drinking and feeding at the shore. The
cries of herons, loons, and river-hens rose with strange
distinctness, so delicate was the atmosphere, and the
blue of the sky was exquisite.

As they paddled slowly along this lake, keeping
time to their song with the paddles, there suddenly
grew out of the distance a great flotilla of canoes with
tall prows, and behind them a range of islands which
they had not before seen. The canoes were filled
with men — Indians it would seem, by the tall feathers
lifting from tlieir heads. A moment before there had
been nothing. The sudden appearance was even

(125)

126

THE TRAIL OB^ THE SWORD.

more startling than the strange canoe that crossed
their track on Lake of the Winds. Iberville knew
at once that it was a mirage, and the mystery of it
did not last long even among the superstitious. But
they knew now that somewhere in the north — pre-
sumably not far away — was a large band of Indians,
possibly hostile ; their own numbers fourscore. There
was the chance that the Indians were following or
intercepting them.. Yet, rilnce they had left the
Ottawa River, they had seen no human being, save in
that strange canoe on Lake of the Winds. To the
east were the dreary wastes of Labrador, to the west
were the desolate plains and hills, stretching to the
valley of the Saskatchewan.

Practically in command, Iberville advisod watch-
fulness and preparation for attack. Presently the
mirage faded away as suddenly as it came. For days
again they marched and voyaged on, seeing still no
human being. At last they came to a lake, which
they crossed in their canoes; then they entered the
mouth of a small river, travelling northward. Tlie
river narrowed at a short distance from its mouth,
and at a certain point the stream turned sharply. As
the first canoe rounded the point it came full upon

WITH THE STKANGE PEOPLE.

127

half a hundred canoes blocking the river, filled by
Indians with bended bows. They were a northern
tribe that had never before seen the white man. Tall
and stern, they were stout enemies, but they had no
firearms, and, as could be seen, they were astonished
at the look of the little band, which, at the command
of De Troyes, who with Iberville was in the first boat,
came steadily on. Suddenly brought face to face
there was a pause, in which Iberville, who knew
several Indian languages, called to them to make
way.

He was not understood, but he had pointed to the
white standard of France flaring with the golden
lilies ; and perhaps the drawn swords and the martial
manner of the little band — who had donned gay trap-
pings, it being Iberville's birthday — conveyed in some
way his meaning. The bows of the strangers stayed
drawn, awaiting word from the leader. Near the
chief stood a man seven feet in height, a kind of
bodyguard, who presently said something in his ear.
He frowned, then seemed to debate, and his face
cleared at last. Raising a spear, he saluted the French
leaders, and then pointed towards the shore, where
there was a space clear of trees, a kind of. plateau.

■r*

■ 1|

128

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

De Troyes and Iberville, thinking that a truce and
parley were meant, returned the salute with their
swords, and presently the canoes of both parties made
over to the shore. It was a striking sight : the grave,
watchful faces of the Indians who showed up grandly
in the sun, their skin like fine rippling bronze as they
moved; their tall feathers tossing, rude bracelets on
their wrists, while some wore necklets of brass or cop-
per. The chief was a stalwart savage with a cruel
eye, but the most striking figure of all — either French
or Indian — was that of the chief's bodyguard. He
was, indeed, the Goliath of the tribe, who, after the
manner of other champions, was ever ready for chal-
lenge in the name of his master. He was massively
built, with long sinewy arms; but Iberville noticed
that he was not powerful at the waist in proportion to
the rest of his body, and that his neck was thinner
than it should be. But these were items, for in all he
was a fine piece of humanity, and Iberville said as
much to De Casson, involuntarily stretching up as he
did so. Tall and athletic himself, he never saw a man
of calibre but he felt a wish to measure strength with
him, not from vanity, but through the mere instincts
of the warrior. Priest as he was, it is possible that

WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLE.

129

De Casson shared the young man's feeling, though
chastening years had overcome impulses of youth. It
was impossible for the French leaders to guess how
this strange parley would end, and when many more
Indians suddenly showed on the banks they saw tliat
they might have tough work.

" What do you think of it, Iberville ? " said De
Troyes.

" A juggler's puzzle — let us ask Perrot," was the
reply.

Perrot confessed that he knew nothing of this
tribe of Indians. The French leaders, who had never
heard of Indians who would fight in the open, were,
in spite of great opposing numbers, in warrior mood.
Presently all the canoes were got to land, and without
any demonstration the Indians filed out on the centre
of the plateau, where were pitched a number of tents.
The tents were in a circle, surrounding a clear space
of ground, and the chief halted in the middle of this.
He and his men had scarcely noticed the Frenchmen
as they followed, seemingly trusting the honour of the
invaders that they would not attack from behind. It
was these Indians who had been seen in the mirage.
They had followed the Frenchmen, had gone parallel

Ir^

130

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

with them for scores of miles, and had at last at this
strategic point waylaid them.

The conference was short. The French ranged in
column on one side, the Indians on the other, and
then the chief stepped forward. De Troyes did the
same, and not far behind him were Iberville, the
other officers, and Perrot. Behind the chief was the
champion, then, a little distance away, on either side,
the Indian councillors.

The chief waved his hand proudly towards the
armed warriors behind him, as if showing their
strength, speakit.^ meanwhile, and then, with ef-
fective gesture, remarking the handful of French.
Presently, pointing to his fighting man, he seemed
to ask that the matter be settled by single com-
bat.

The French leaders understood : Goliath would
have his David. The champion suddenly began a
sing-song challenge, during which Iberville and his
comrades conferred. The champion's eyes ran up
and down the line and lighted on the large form of
De Casson, who calmly watched him. Iberville saw
this look and could not help but laugh, though the
matter was serious. He pictured the good abbe fight-

WITH THE STKANGE PEOPLE.

131

saw

Ithe

ht-

ing for the band. At this the champion began to
beat his oreast defiantly.

Iberville threw off his coat, and motioned his
friends back. Immediately there was protest. They
had not known quite what to do, but Perrot had of-
fered to fight the champion, and they, supposing it
was to be a fight with weapons, had hastily agreed.
It was clear, however, that it was to be a wrestle to
the death. Iberville quelled all protests, and they
stepped back. There was a final call from the cham-
pion, and then he became silent. From the Indians
rose one long cry of satisfaction, and then they too
stilled, the chief fell back, and the two men stood
alone in the centre. Iberville, whose face had become
grave, went to De Casson and whispered to him.
The abbe gave him his blessing, and then he turned
and went back. He waved his hand to his brothers
and his friends, — a gay Cavalier-like motion, — then
took off all save his small clothes and stood out.

Never was seen, perhaps, a stranger sight : a gen-
tleman of France ranged against a savage wrestler,
without weapons, stripped to the waist, to fight like a
gladiator. But this was a new land, and Iberville
could ever do what another of his name or rank could

III

,.^0==^^=^-

132

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

not. There was only one other man in Canada wlio
could do the same — old Count Frontenac himself,
who, dressed in all his Court finery, had danced a
war-dance in the torchlight with Iroquois chiefs.

Stripped, Iberville's splendid proportions could be
seen at advantage. He was not massively made, but
from crown to heel there was perfect muscular pro-
portion. His admirable training and his splendidly
nourished body — cared for, as in those days only was
the body cared for — promised much, though against
so huge a champion. Then, too, Iberville in his boy-
hood had wrestled with Indians and had learned their
tricks. Added to this were methods learned abroad,
which might prove useful now. Yet anyone looking
at the two would have begged the younger man to
withdraw.

Never was battle shorter. Iberville, too proud to
give his enemy one moment of athletic trifling, ran in
on him. For a time they were locked straining ter-
ribly, and then the neck of the champion went with a
snap and he lay dead in the middle of the green.

The Indians and the French were both so dumb-
founded that for a moment no one stirred, and Iber-
ville went "back and quietly put on his clothes. But

WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLE.

133

presently cries of rage and mourning came from the
Indians, and weapons threatened. But the chief
waved aggression down, and came forward to the
dead man. He looked for a moment, and then as
Iberville and De Troyes came near, he gazed at Iber-
ville in wonder, and all at once reached out both
hands to him. Iberville took them and shook them
heartily.

There was something uncanny in the sudden death
of the champion, and Iberville's achievement had con-
quered these savages, who, axler all, loved such deeds,
though '?.t the hand of an enemy. And now the
whole scene was changed. The French courteously
but firmly demanded homage, and got it, as the
superior race can get it from the inferior, when events
are, even distantly, in their favour : and here were
martial display, a band of fearless men, weapons which
the savages had never seen before, trumpets, and,
most of all, a chief who was his own champion, and
who had snapped the neck of their Goliath as one
would break a tree-branch.

From the moment Iberville and the chief shook
hands they were friends, and after two days, when
they parted company, there was no Indian among all

iXr

134

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOKD.

this strange tribe but would have followed him any-
where. As it was, he and De Troyes preferred to
make the expedition with his handful of men, and so
parted with the Indians, after having made gifts to
the chief and his people. The most important of
these presents was a musket, handled by the chief at
first as though it were some deadly engine. The tribe
had been greatly astonished at hearing a volley fired
by the whole band at once, and at seeing caribou shot
before their eyes ; but when the chief himself, after
divers attempts, shot a caribou, they stood in proper
awe. With mutr.al friendliness they parted. Two
weeks later, after great trials, the band emerged on
the shores of Hudson's; Bay almost without baggage
and starving.

CHAPTER XII.

OUT OF THE NET.

The last two hundred miles of their journey had
been made under trying conditions. Accidents had
befallen the canoes which carried the food, and the
country through which they passed was almost devoid
of game. During the last three days they had little
or nothing to eat. When, therefore, at night they
came suddenly upon the shores of Hudson's Bay, and
Fort Hayes lay silent before them, they were ready for
desperate enterprises. The high stockade walls with
stout bastions and small cannon looked formidable,
yet there was no man of them but was better pleased
that the odds were against him than with him.
Though it was late spring, the night was cold, and
all were wet, hungi y, and chilled.

Iberville's first glance at the bay and the fort
brought disappointment. No vessel lay in the har-
bour, therefore it wa3 probiible Gering was not there.

10 (135;

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f

1 ii

III

136

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

But there were other forts, and tliia one must bo
taken meanwhile. The plans were quickly made.
Iberville advised a double attack : an improvised bat-
tering-ram at the great gate, and a party to climb tho
stockade wall at another quarter. This climbing
party ho would himself lead, accompanied by his
brother Sainte-IIel^ne, Perrot, and a handful of agilo
woodsmen. He had his choice, and his men were
soon gathered round him. A tree was cut down in
the woods some distance from the shore, shortened,
and brought down, ready for its duty of battering-
ram.

The night was beautiful. There was a bright
moon, and tho sky by some strange trick of atmos-
phere had taken on a green hue, against which every-
thing stood out with singular distinctness. The air
was placid, and through the stillness came the low
humming wash of the water to the hard shore. The
fort stood on an upland, looking in its solitariness
like some lonely prison-house, whf re men went more
to have done with the world than for punishment.
Iberville was in that mood wherein men do stubborn
deeds — when justice is more with them than mercy
and selfishness than either.

OUT OP THK NET.

137

" If you meet the man, Pierre?" De Casson said
before the party started.

" If we meet, may my mind be his, abbe ? " Iber-
ville laughed softly. " But he is not here — there is
no vessel, you see ! Still, there are more forts on the
bay."

The band knelt down before they started. It was
strange to hear in that lonely waste, a handful of
men, bent on a deadly task, singing a low chant of
penitence — a " Kyrie eleison." Afterwards came the
benediction upon this buccaneering expedition, be-
hind which w 3 one man's personal enmity, a mer-
chant company's cupidity, and a great nation's lust
of conquest.

Iberville stole across the shore and up the hill
with his handful of men. There was no sound from
the fort ; all were asleep. No musket-shot welcomed
them, no cannon roared on the night, there was no
sentry. What should people on the outposts of the
world need of sentries, so long as there were walls to
keep out wild animals ! In a few moments Iberville
and his companions were over the wall. Already the
attack on the gate had begun,, a passage was quickly
made, and by the time Iberville had forced open th«

1^.

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U!-!

138

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

doors of the block-house, his followers making a wild
hubbub as of a thousand men, De Troyes and his
party were at his heels. Before the weak garrison
could make resistance they were in the hands of their
enemies, and soon were gathered in the yard — men,
women, and children.

Gering was not there. Iberville was told that he
was at one of the other forts along the shore : either
Fort Rupert on the east, a hundred and twenty miles
away, or at Fort Albany, ninety miles to the north
and west. Iberville determined to go to Fort Rupert,
and with a few followers, embarking in canoes, assem-
bled before it two nights after. A vessel was in the
harbour, an'1 his delight was keen. He divided his
men, senaing Per^-ot to take the fort, while himself
with a small .»arty moved to the attack of the vessel.
Gering had delayed a day too long. He had intended
leaving the day before, but the arrival of the governor
of the Company had induced him to remain another
day ; entertaining the governor at supper, and toast-
ing him in some excellent wine got in Kispaniola.
So palatable was it that all drank deeply, and other
liquors found their way to the fo'castle. Thus in the
dead of night there was no open eye on the Valiant.

OUT OP THE NET.

139

The Frenchmen pushed out gently from the shore,
paddled noiselessly over to the ship's side, and clam-
bered up. Iberville was the first to step on deck, and
he was followed by Perrot and De Casson, who had,
against Iberville's will, insisted on coming. Five
others came after. Already they could hear the other
party at the gate of the fort, and the cries of the
besiegers, now in the fortyard, came clearly to
them.

The watch of the Valiant waking suddenly, he
sprang up and ran forward, making no outcry, dazed,
but bent on fighting. He came, however, on the
point of Perrot's sabre and was cut down. Mean-
while Iberville, hot for mischief, stamped upon the
deck. Immediately a number of armed men came
bundling up the hatchway. Among these appeared
Gering and the governor, who thrust themselves for-
ward with drawn swords and pistols. The first two
men who appeared above the hatchway were promptly
despatched, and Iberville's sword was falling upon
Gering, whom he did not recognise, when De Cas-
son's hand diverted the blow. It caught the shoulder
of a man at Gering's side.

" 'Tis Monsieur Gering ! " said the priest.

140

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

" Stop ! Stop ! " cried a voice behind these. " I
am the governor. We surrender."

There was nothing else to do : in spite of Gering's
show of defiance, though death was above him if he
resisted. He was but half-way up.

" It is no use, Mr. Gering," urged the governor ;
" they have us like sheep in a pen."

"Very well," said Gering suddenly, handing up
his sword and stepping up himself. " To whom do I
surrender ? "

" To an old acquaintance, monsieur," said Iber-
ville, coming near, "who will cherish you for the
king of France."

"Damnation!" cried Gering, and his eyes hun-
gered for his sword again.

" You would not visit me, so I came to look for
you ; though why, monsieur, you should hide up here
in the porch of the world passeth knowledge."

"Monsieur is witty," answered Gering stoutly;
" but if he will grant me my sword again and an hour
alone with him, I shall ask no greater joy in life."

By this time the governor was on deck, and he
interposed.

" I beg, sir," he said to Iberville, " you will see

OUT OF THE NET.

141

((

;

there is no useless slaughter at yon fort ; for I guess
that your men have their way with it."

"Shall my messenger, in your name, tell your
people to give in ? "

"Before God, no: I hope that they will fight
while remains a chance. And be sure, sir, I should
not have yielded here, but that I foresaw hopeless
slaughter. Nor would I ask your favour there, but
that I know you are like to have bloody barbarians
with you — and we have women and children ! "

"We have no Indians, we are all French," an-
swered Iberville quietly, and sent the messenger
away.

At that moment Perrot touched his arm, and
pointed to a man whose shoulder was being bandaged.
It was Radisson, who had caught Iberville's sword
when the abbe diverted it.

" By the mass ! " said Iberville ; " the gift of the
saints."

He pricked Radisson with the point of his sword.
" Well, monsieur renegade," he said, " who holds the
spring of the trap ? You have some prayers, I hope.
And if there is no priest among your English, we'll
find you one before you swing next sundown."

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142

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

Kadisson threw up a malignant look, but said
nothing ; and went on caring for his wound.

" At sunset, remember. You will see to it, Per-
rot," he added.

" Pardon me, monsieur," said the governor. " This
is an officer of our company, duly surrenc red."

" Monsieur will know this man is a traitor, and
that I have long-standing orders to kill him wherever
found. — What has monsieur to say for him?" Iber-
ville added, turning to Gering.

"As an officer of the company," was the reply,
" he has the rights of a prisoner of war."

" Monsieur, we have met at the same table and I
cannot think you should plead for a traitor. If you
will say that the man "

But here Radisson broke in. " I want no one to
speak for me. I hate you all " — he spat at Iberville —
** and I will hang when I must, no sooner."

" Not so badly said," Iberville responded. " 'Tis a
pity, Radisson, you let the devil buy you."

"T'sh! The devil pays good coin, and I'm not
hung yet," he sullenly returned.

By this time all the prisoners save Gering, the
governor, and Radisson, were secured. Iberville or-

OUT OP THE NET.

143

dered their disposition, and then, having set a guard,
went down to deal with the governor for all the forts
on the bay. Because the firing had ceased, he knew
that the fort had been captured; and, indeed, word
soon came to this effect. Iberville then gave orders
that the prisoners from the fort should be brought on
board next morning, to be carried on to Fort Albany,
which was yet for attack. He was ill-content that
a hand-to-hand fight with Gering had been prevented.

He was now all courtesy to the governor and Ger-
ing, and offering them their own wine, entertained
them with the hardships of their travel up. He gave
the governor assurance that the prisoners should be
treated well and no property destroyed. Afterwards,
with apologies, he saw them bestowed in a cabin, the
door fastened, and a guard set. Presently he went on
deck, and giving orders that Radisson should be kept
safe on the after-deck, had rations served out; and
after eating, he drew his cloak over him in the cabin
and fell asleep.

Near daybreak a man came swimming along the
side of the ship to the small porthole of a cabin. He
paused before it, took from his pocket a nail, and
threw it within. There was no response, and he

^ff

144

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

Ill)

threw another, and again there was no response.
Hearing the step of someone on the deck above, he
drew in close to the side of the ship, diving under the
water and lying still. A moment after he reappeared
and moved — almost floated — on to another porthole.
He had only one nail left ; he threw it in, and Ger-
ing's face appeared. »

" Hush, monsieur ! " Kadisson called up. " I have
a key which may fit, and a bar of iron. If you get
clear make for this side."

He spoke in a whisper. At that moment he again
heard steps above, and dived as before. The watch
looked over, having heard a slight noise ; but not
knowing that Gering's cabin was beneath, thought no
harm. Presently Kadisson came up again. Gering
understood ; having heard the footsteps.

" I will make the attempt," he said. " Can you
give me no other weapon ? "

" I have only the one," responded Radisson, not
unselfish enough to give it up. His chief idea, after
all, was to put Gering under obligation to him.

" I will do my best," said Gering.

Then he turned to the governor, who did not care
to risk his life in the way of escape.

OUT OF THE NET.

145

Gering tried the key, but it would not turn easily
and he took it out again. Rubbing away the rust, ho
used tallow from the candle, and tried the lock again ;
still it would not turn. He looked to the fastenings,
but they were solid, and he feared noise ; he made one
more attempt with the lock and suddenly it turned.
He tried the handle, and the door opened. Then he
bade good-bye to the governor and stepped out, al-
most upon the guard, who was sound asleep. Look-
ing round he saw Iberville's cloak, which its owner
had thrown off in his sleep. He stealthily picked it
up, and then put Iberville's cap on his head. Of
nearly the same height, with these disguises, he might
be able to pass for his captor.

He threw the cloak over his shoulders, stole silently
to the hatchway, and cautiously climbed up. Thrust-
ing out his head he looked about him, and saw two or
three figures bundled together at the mainmast —
woodsmen who had celebrated victory too sincerely.
He looked for the watch, but could not see him.
Then he drew himself carefully up, and on his hands
and knees passed to the starboard side and moved aft.
Doing so he saw the watch start up from the capstan
where he had been resting, and walk towards him.

if'

•AMii

:if'l

1'. 1 1,

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146

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

He did not quicken his pace. He trusted to his ruse
— he would impersonate Iberville, possessed as he was
of the hat and cloak. He moved to the bulwarks
and leaned against them, looking into the water.
The sentry was deceived ; he knew the hat and cloak,
and he was only too glad to have, as he thought, es-
caped the challenge of having slept at his post; he
began resolutely to pace the deck. Gering watched
him closely, and moved deliberately to the stern.
Doing so he suddenly came upon a body. He stopped
and tui-ned round, leaning against the bulwarks as
before. This time the watch came within twenty feet
of him, saluted and retired.

Immediately Gering looked again at the body near
him, and started back, for his feet were in a little
pool. He understood : Radisson had escaped by kill-
ing his guard. It was not possible that the crime and
the escape could go long undetected : the watch might
at any moment come the full length of the ship. Ger-
ing flashed a glance at him again, — his back was to
him still, — suddenly doffed the hat and cloak, vaulted
lightly upon the bulwarks, caught the anchor-chain,
slid down it into the water, and struck out softly along
the side. Immediately Radisson was beside him.

OUT OP THE NET.

147

" Can you dive ? " the Frenchman whispered.
" Can you swim under water? "

" A little."

" Then, with me quick ! "

The Frenchman dived and Gering followed him.
The water was bitter cold, but when a man is saving
hia life endurance multiplies.

The Fates were with them : no alarm came from
the ship, and they reached the bank in safety. Here
they were upon a now hostile shore without food, fire,
shelter, and weapons: their situation was desperate
even yet. Radisson's ingenuity was not quite enough,
sa Gering solved the problem : there were the French-
men's canoes ; they must be somewhere on the shore.
Because Radisson was a Frenchman, he might be able
to impose upon the watch guarding the canoes. If
not, they still had weapons of a kind — Radisson a
knife, and Gering the bar of iron. They moved
swiftly along the shore, fearing an alarm meanwhile.
If they could but get weapons and a canoe they would
make their way either to Fort Albany, so warning it,
or attempt the desperate journey to New York.
Again fortune was with them. As it chanced, the
watch, suffering from the cold night air, had gone

I' -I j

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

V I

into the bush to bring wood for firing. The two
refugees stole near, and in the very first canoe found
three muskets, and there were also bags filled with
food. They hastily pushed out a canoe, got in, and
were miles away before their escape was discovered.

Radisson was for going south at once to New
York, but Gering would not hear of it, and at the
mouth of a musket Radisson obeyed. They reached
Fort Albany and warned it. Having thus done his
duty towards the Hudson's Bay Company, and know-
ing that surrender must come, and that in this case
his last state would be worse than his first, Gering
proceeded with Radisson — hourly more hateful to
him, yet to be endured for what had happened —
southward upon the trail the Frenchmen had taken
northward.

A couplo of hours after Gering had thrown his hat
and cloak into the blood of the coureur du lois^ and slid
down the anchor-chain, Iberville knew that his quarry
was flown. The watch had thought that Iberville had
gone below, and he again relaxed, but presently a
little maggot of wonder got into his brain. He then
went aft. Dawn was just breaking; the grey moist
light shone with a naked coldness on land and water ;

OUT OF THE NET.

149

wild-fowl came fluttering, voiceless, past ; night was
still drenched in sleep. Suddenly he saw the dead
body, and his boots dabbled in the wet !

In all that concerned tht honour of the arms of
France and the conquest of the three forts, Hayes,
Rupert, and Albany, Iberville might be content, but
he chafed at the escape of his enemies.

" I will not say it is better so, Pierre," urged Do
Casson ; " but you have done enough for the king.
Let your own cause come later."

" And it will come, abbe," he answered, with a
nonchalant anger. " His account grows ; we must
settle all one day. And Radisson shall swing or I am
no soldier — so ! "

j
I

^r;

'\\

<2^|)0ct) ti)e (2rt)irb.
CHAPTER XIII.

"AS WATER UNTO WINE.'*

Three months afterwards George Gering was joy-
fully preparing to take two voyages. Perhaps, in-
deed, his keen taste for the one had much to do with
his eagerness for the other — though most men find
getting gold as cheerful as getting married. He had
received a promise of marriage from Jessica, and he
was also soon to start with William Phips for the
Spaniards' country. His return to New York with
the news of the capture of the Hudson's Bay posts
brought consternation. There was no angrier man
in all America than Colonel Richard Nicholls ; there
was perhaps no girl in all the world more agitated
than Jessica, then a guest at Government House.
Her father was there also, cheerfully awaiting her

(150)

"AS WATER UNTO WIN::."

151

marriage with Gering, whom, since he had lost most
traces of Puritanism, lie liked, lie had long sus-
pected the girPs interest in Iberville ; if he had
knov/n that two letters from him — unanswered — had
been treasured, read, and re-read, he would have been
anxious. That his daughter should marry a French-
man — a filibustering seigneur, a Catholic, the enemy
of the British colonies, whose fellow-countrymen in-
cited the Indians to harass and to massacre — was not
to be borne.

Besides, the Honourable Hogarth Leveret, whose
fame in the colony was now often in peril because of
his Cavalier propensities, and whose losses had aged
him, could not bear that himself should sink and
carry his daughter with him. Jessica was the apple
of his eye ; for her he would have borne all sorts of
trials ; but he could not bear to see her called on to
bear ther.. Like most people out of the heyday of
their ov n youth, he imagined the way a maid's fancy
ought to go.

If he had known how much his daughter's promise
to marry Gering would cost her, he would not have
had it. But indeed she did not herself guess it. She

had, with the dreamy pleasure of a young girl, dwelt

152

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

: f.

upon au event which might well hold her delighted
memory: distance, difference of race, language, and
life, all surrounded Iberville with an engaging fasci-
nation. Besides, what woman could forget a man
who gave her escape from a fate such as Buckiaw had
prepared for her? But she saw the hopelessness of
the thin^; everything was steadily acting in Ger-
ing's favour, and her father's trouble decided her at
last.

When Gering arrived at New York and told his
story — to his credit with no dispraise of Iberville,
rather as a soldier — she felt a pang greater than she
had ever known. Like a good British maid, she was
angry at the defeat of the British, she was indigns^nt
at her lover's failure and proud of his brave escape,
and she would have herself believe that she was angry
at Iberville. But it was no use ; she was ill-content
while her father and others cailed him buccaneer and
filibuster, and she joyed that old William Drayton,
who had ever spoken well of the young Frenchman,
laughed at their insults, saying that he was as brave,
comely, and fine-tempered a lad as he had ever met,
and that the capture of the forts was genius — " Gen-
ius and pith, upon my soul ! " he said stoutly, " and

"AS WATER UNTO WINE."

153

if he comes this way he shall have a right hearty wel-
come, though he come to fight ! "

In the first excitement of Gering's return, sorry
for his sufferings and for his injured ambition, she
had suddenly put her hands in his and had given her
word to marry him.

She was young, and a young girl does not always
know which it is that moves her : the melancholy of
the impossible, from which she sinks in a kind of
peaceful despair upon the possible, or the flush of a
deep desire : she acts in an atmosphere of the emo-
tions, and cannot therefore be sure of herself. But
when it was done there came reaction to Jessica.
In the solitude of her own room — the room above the
hallway, from which she had gone to be captured by
Bucklaw — she had misgivings. If she had been
asked whether she loved Iberville, she might have
answered no. But he was a possible lover ; and every
woman weighs the possible lover against the accepted
one — often, at first, to fluttering apprehensions. In
this brief reaction many a woman's heart has been
caught away.

A few days after Gering's arrival he was obliged to
push on to Boston, there to meet Phips. He hoped

1 1

154

THE TRAIL OP THE SWOHD.

that Mr. Leveret and Jessica would accompany him,
but Governor Nicholls would not hear of it just yet.
Truth is, wherever the girl went she was light and
cheerfulness, although her ways were quiet and her
sprightliness was mostly in her looks. She was im-
pulsive, but impulse was ruled by a reserve at once
delicate and unembarrassed. She was as much beloved
in the town of New York as in Boston.

Two days after Gering left she was wandering in
the garden, when the governor joined her.

" Well, well, my pretty councillor," he said, — " an
hour to cheer an old man's leisure ? "

" As many as you please," she answered, daintily
putting her hand in his arm. " I am so very cheerful
I need to shower the surplus." There was a smile at
her lips, but her eyes were misty. Large, brilliant,
gentle, they had now also a bewildered look, which
even the rough old soldier saw. He did not under-
stand, but he drew the hand further within his arm and
held it there, and for the instant he knew not what
to say. The girl did not speak ; she only kept look-
ing at him with a kind of inward smiling. Presently,
as if ho had suddenly lighted upon a piece of news for
the difficulty, he said, " Radisson has come."

"AS WATER UNTO WINE."

155

" Radisson ! " she cried.

" Yes. You know 'twas he that helped George to
escape ! "

" Indeed, no ! " she answered. " Mr. Gering did
not tell me." She was perplexed, annoyed, yet she
knew not why.

Gering had not brought Radisson into New York
— had indeed forbidden him to come there, or to Bos-
ton, until word was given him; for while he felt
bound to let the scoundrel go with him to the Span-
iards' country, it was not to be forgotten that the fel-
low had been with Bucklaw. But Radisson had no
scruples when Gering was gone, though the proscrip-
tion had never been withdrawn.

"We will have to give him freedom, councillor, eh?
even though we proclaimed him, you remember." He
laughed, and added : " You would demand that, yea
or nay."

" Why should I ? " she asked.

" Now, give me wisdom, all ye saints ! Why — why?
Faith, he helped your lover from the clutches of the
French coxcomb ! "

" Indeed," she answered, " such a villain helps but
for absurd b'^nefits. Mr. Gerinp^ might have stayed

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156

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

with Monsieur Iberville in honour and safety at least.
And why a coxcomb ? You thought different once ;
and you cannot doubt his bravery. Enemy of our
country though he be, I am surely bound to speak
him well — he saved my life.''

Anxious to please her he answered : " Wise as
ever, councillor. What an old bear am I ! When I
called him coxcomb, 'twas as an Englishman hating a
Frenchman, who gave Ov r tongues to gall — a handful
of posts gone, a ship passed to the spoiler, the gov-
ernor of the Company a prisoner, and our young com-
mander's reputation at some trial! My temper was
pardonable, eh, mistress?"

The girl smiled, and added, "There was good
reason why Mr. Gering brought not Radisson here,
and I should beware that man. A traitor is ever a
traitor. He is French too, and as a good Englishman
you should hate all Frenchmen, should you not ? "

" Merciless witch ! Where got you that wit ? If I
must, I kneel;" and he groaned in mock despair.
" And if Monsieur Iberville should come knocking
at our door you would have me welcome him lov-
ingly?"

"Surely; there is peace, is there not? Has not

"AS WATER UNTO WINE."

157

the king, because of his love for Louis, commanded all
goodwill between us and Canada ? "

The governor laughed bitterly. " Much pity that
he has ! How can we live at peace with bucca-
neers ! "

Their talk was interrupted here, but a few days
later, in the same garden, Morris came to them. *' A
ship enters harbour," he said, "and its commander
sends this letter."

An instant after the governor turned a troubled
face on the girl, and said : " Your counsel of the other
day is put to rapid test, Jessica. This comes from
monsieur, who would pay his respects to me."

He handed the note to her. It said that Iberville
had brought prisoners whom he was willing to ex-
change for French prisoners in the governor's hands.

Entering New York harbour with a single vessel
showed in a strong light Iberville's bold, almost reck-
less, courage. The humour of it was not lost on Jes-
sica, though she turned pale, and the paper fluttered
in her fingers.

" What will you do ? " she said.

" I will treat him as well as he will let me, sweet-
heart."

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158

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

Two hours afterwards, Iberville came up the street
with Sainte-Hel6ne, De Casson, and Perrot — De
Troyes had gone to Quebec — courteously accompanied
by Morris and an officer of the New York Militia.
There was no enmity shown the Frenchmen, for
many remembered what had once made Iberville
popular in New York. Indeed, Iberville, whose mem-
ory was of the best, now and again accosted some
English or Dutch resident, whose face he recalled.

The governor was not at first cordial ; but Iber-
ville's cheerful soldicrliness, his courtier spirit, and
his treatment of the English prisoners, soon placed
him on a footing near as friendly as that of years
before. The governor praised his growing reputa-
tion, and at last asked him to dine, saying that Mis-
tress Leveret would no doubt be glad to meet her

rescuer again.

" Still I doubt not," said the governor, " there will
be embarrassment, for the lady can scarce forget that
you hp'i her lover prisoner. But these things are to
be endured. Besides, you and Mr. Gering seem as
easily enemies as other men are friends."

Iberville was amazed. So, Jessica and Gering
were affianced. And the buckle she had sent him he

s
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"AS WATER UNTO WINE."

159

wore in the folds of his lace ! How could he know
what comes from a woman's wavering sympathies,
what from her inborn coquetry, and what from love
itself? He was merely a man with much to learn.

He accepted dinner and said, " As for Monsieur
Gering, your Excellency, we aru as easily enemies as
he and Kadisson are comrades in-arms."

" Which is harshly put, monsieur. W^hen a man
is breaking prison he chooses any tool. You put a
slight upon an honest gentleman."

" I fear that neither Mr. Gering nor myself are
too generous with each other, your Excellency," an-
swered Iberville lightly.

This frankness was pleasing, and soon the gov-
ernor took Iberville into the drawing-room, where
Jessica was. She was standing by the great fireplace,
and she did not move at first, but looked at Iberville
in something of her old simple way. Then she of-
fered him her hand with a quiet smile.

" I fear you are not glad to see me," he said with
a smile. " You cannot have had good reports of me
—no ? "

" Yes, I am glad," she answered gently. " You
know, monsieur, mine is a constant debt. You do

ill

I, -h

160

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

not come to me, I take it, as the conqueror of Eng-
lishmen."

" I come to you," he answered, " as Pierre le
Moyne of Iberville, who had once the honour to do
you slight service. I have never tried to forget that,
because by it I 1 oped I might be remembered — an
accident of ^ * ce ju me.'*

She bowed and at first did not speak ; then Morris
came to say that someone awaited the governor, and
the two were left alone.

" I have not forgotten," she began softly, breaking
a silence.

" You will think me bold, but I believe you will
never forget," was his meaning reply.

" Yes, you are bold," she replied, with the demure
smile which had charmed him long ago. Suddenly
she looked up at him anxiously, and, " Why did you
go to Hudson's Bay ? " she asked.

" I would have gone ten times as far for the same
cause," he answered, and he looked boldly, earnestly
into her eyes.

She turned her head away. " You have all your
old recklessness," she aniwered. Then her eyes sof-
tened, and, " Ail your old courage," she added.

"AS WATER UNTO WINE."

161

" I have all my old motive."

" What is — your motive?"

Does a woman never know how much such
speeches cost? Did Jessica quite know when she
asked the question, what her own motive was ; how
much it had of delicate malice — unless there was
behind it a simple sincerity ? She was inviting sor-
row. A man like Iberville was not *n be counted
lightly; for every word he sowed, he 9f' Id reap a
harvest of some kind.

He came close to her, and looked as though he
would read her through and throug .. " Can you ask
that question ? " he said most seriously. " If you ask
it because from your soul you wish to know, good !
But if you ask it as a woman who would read a man's
heart, and then "

" Oh, hush ! — hush ! " she whispered. Her face
became pale, and her eyes had a painful brightness.
" You must not answer. I had no right to ask. Oh,
monsieur ! " she added, " I would have you always for
my friend if I could, though you are the enemy of
my country and of the man — I am to marry."

" I am for my king," he replied ; " and I am ene-
my of him who stands between you and me. For see,

\\l

1G2

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

Ill

from the hour that I met you I knew that some day,
even as now, I should teU you that — I love you — in-
deed, Jessica, with all my heart."

" Oh, have pity ! " she pleaded. " I cannot listen
— I cannot."

" You shall listen, for you have remembered me
and have understood. Voildf'' he added, hastily
catching her silver buckle from his bosom. " This
that yoLi sent me, look where I have kept it — on my
heart ! "

She drew back from him, her face in her hands.
Then suddenly she put them out as though to prevent
him coming near her, and said —

" Oh, no — no ! You will spare me ; I am an affi-
anced wife." An appealing smile shone through her
tears. "Oh, will you not go?" she begged. "Or,
will you not stay and forget what you have said ? "We
are little more than strangers ; I scarcely know you ;
I-

?»

" We are no strangers ! " he broke in. " How can
that be when for years I have thought of you — you of
me ? But I am content to wait, for my love shall win
you yet. You "

She came to him and put her hands upon his arm.

"AS WATER UNTO WINE'"

1G3

" You remember," she said, with a touch of her old
gaiety, and with an inimitable ^race, "what good
friends we were that first day we met? Let us be
the same now — for this time at least. Will you not
grant me this for to-day?"

" And to-morrow ? " he asked, inwardly determin-
ing to stay in the port of New York and to carry
her off as his wife ; but, unlike Bucklaw, with her
consent.

At that moment the governor returned, and Iber-
ville's question was never answered. Nor did he dine
at Government House, for wora came secretly that
English ships were coming from Boston to capture
him. He had therefore no other resource but to sail
out and push on for Quebec. He would not peril the
lives of his men merely to follow his will with Jessica.

What might have occurred had he stayed is not
easy to say— fortunes turn on strange trifles. The
girl, under the influence of his masterful spirit and
the rare charm of his manner, might have — as many
another has — broken her troth. As it was, she wrote
Iberville a letter and sent it by a courier, who never
delivered it. By the same fatality, of the letters
which he wrote her only one was received. This told

104

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

her tluvt when he returned from a certain cruise ho
would visit lier again, for ho was such an enemy to
her country that he was keen to win what did it most
honour. Gering had pressed for a marriage before lie
sailed for the Spaniards' country, but she had said no,
and when lie urged it she had shown a sudden cold-
ness. Therefore, bidding her good-bye, he had sailed
away with Phips, accompanied, much against his will,
by Radisson. Bucklaw was not with them, lie had
set sail from England in a trading schooner, and was
to join Phips at Port de la Planta. Gering did not
know that Bucklaw had share in the expedition, nor
did Bucklaw guess the like of Gering.

Within two weeks of the time that Phips in his
Bridgwater Merchant^ manned by a full crew, twenty
fighting men, and twelve guns, with Gering in com-
mand of the Swallow^ a smaller ship, got away to the
south, Iberville also sailed in the same direction. lie
had found awaiting him, on his return to Quebec, a
priest bearing messages and a chart from another
priest who had died in the Spaniards' country.

g
I

I
r

CHAPTER XIV.

IN WHICH THE HUNTERS AUE OUT.

Iberville had a good ship. The Maid of Prov-
ence carried a handful of guns and a small but
carefully chosen crew, together with Sainte-IIel(^ne,
Perrot, and the lad Maurice Joval, who had conceived
for Iberville friendship nigh to adoration. Those
were days when the young were encouraged to adven-
ture, and Iberville had no compunction in giving the
boy this further taste of daring.

Iberville, thorough sailor as he was, had chosen for
his captain one who had sailed the Spanish main.
He had commanded on merchant ships which had
been suddenly turned into men-of-war, and was suited
to the present enterprise : taciturn, harsh of voice,
Si igularly impatient, but a perfect seaman, and as
brave as could be. He had come to Quebec late the
previous autumn with the remnants of a ship which,
rotten when she left the port of Havre, had sprung

(165)

I r.

■I

lOG

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

aleak in niid-occan, liad met a storm, lost her main-
must, and by tlio time she reached the St. Lawrence
Jiad scarce a otick standing. She v/as still at Quebec,
tic(i up in the bay of St. Charles, trom which she
would probably go out no more. Her captain — Jean
Rerii^ord — had chafed on the bit in the little Hotel
Colbert, making himself more feared than liked, till
one day he was taken to Iberville by Perrot.

A bargain was soon struck. The nature of the ex-
pedition was not known in Quebec, for the sailors were
not engaged till the eve of starting, and Perrot's men
were ready at his bidding without why or wherefore.
Indeed, when the lUaid of Provence left the island of
Orleans, her nose seawards, one fine July morning,
the only persons in Quebec that knew her destination
wore the priest wlio had brought Iberville the chart of
the river, with its accurate location of the sunken
galleon, Iberville's brothers, and Count Frontenac
himself — returned again as governor.

" See, Monsieur n)erville," said the governor, as
with a line show of compliment, in full martial dress,
with his officers in gold lace, perukes, powder, swords,
and ribbons, he bade Iberville good-bye — " See, my
dear captain, that you find the treasure, or make these

IN WHICH TIIK HUNTEKS AUK OUT. 107

greedy English pay dour for it. They Imvc a long
start, but that is nothing, with a ship under you that
can show its heels to any craft. 1 care not so much
about the treasure, but 1 pray you humble those dull
Puritans, who turn buccaneers in the name of the
Lord."

Iberville made a gallant reply, and, with Sainte-
Ilelene, received a hearty farewell from the old
soldier, who, now over seventy years of age, was as
full of spirit as when he distinguished himself at
Arras fifty years before. In Iberville he saw his own
youth renewed, and he foretold the high part he would
yet play in the fortunes of New France. Iberville
had got to the door and was bowing himself out
when, with a quick gesture, Frontenac stopped him,
stepped quickly forward, and clasping his shoulders
kissed him on each cheek, and said in a deep kind
voice, " I know, man enfant^ what lies behind this.
A man pays the price one time or another; he draws
his sword for hi« mistress and his king; both forget,
but die's country remains — remains."

Iberville said nothing, but with an admiring

glance into the aged, iron face, stooped and kissed

Frontenac's hand and withdrew silently. Frontenac,
19

1G8

TUE TRAIL OP THE SWOilD.

proud, impatient tyrannical, was the one man in Kew
France who had a powerful idea of the future of the
country, and who loved her and his king by the law
of a loyal nature. Like Wolsey, he had found his
king ungrateful, and had stood almost alone in
Canada among his enemies, as at Versailles among
his traducers — imperious, unyielding and yet forgiving.
Married too at an early age, his young wife, caring lit-
tle for the duties of maternity and more eager to serve
her own ambitions than his, left him that she might
share the fortunes of Mademoiselle de Montpensier.

Iberville had mastered the chart before he sailed,
and when they were well on their way he disclosed to
the captain the object of their voyage. Berigord lis-
tened to all he had to sav, and at first did no more
tlian blow tobacco smoke hard before him. " Let me
see the chart," he said at last, and scrutinising it care-
fully, added : " Yes, yes, 'tis right enough. I've been
in the port and up the river. But neither we nor the
English '11 get a handful of gold or silver thereabouts.
'Tis throwing good money after none at all."

" The money is mine, my captain," said Iberville
good-humouredly. "There will be sport, and I ask
but that you give me every chance you can."

ville
ask

IN WHICH THE HUNTERS ARE OUT. 109

" Look then, monsieur," replied the smileless man,
" I'll run your ship for all she holds from here to hell,
if you twist your finger. She's as good a. craft as ever
I spoke, and I'll swear her for any weather. The
fighting and the gold as you and the devil agree ! "

Iberville wished nothing better — a captain con-
cerned only with his own duties. Berigord gathered
the crew and the divers on deck, and in half a dozen
words told them the object of the expedition, and was
followed by Iberville. Some of the men had been
with him to Hudson's Bay, and they wished nothing
better than fighting the English, and all were keen
with the lust of gold — even though it were for an-
other. As it was, Iberville promised them all a share
of what was got.

On the twentieth day after leaving Quebec they
sighted islands, and simultaneously they saw five ships
bearing away towards them. Iberville was apprehen-
sive that a fleet of the kind could only be hostile, for
merchant ships would ha' 4iy sail together so, and it
was not possible that *ney were French. There re-
mained the probability that they were Spanish or
English ships. He had no intention of running
away, but at the same time he had no wish to fight

170

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORu.

1 |p

before ho reached Port de la Planta and had hud hla
hour with Gering and Phips and the lost treasure.
Besides, five ships was a large undertaking, which
only a madman would willingly engage. However,
he kept steadily on his course. But there was one
chance of avoiding a battle without running away —
the glass had been falling all night and morning.
Berigord, when questioned, grimly replied that there
was to be trouble, but whether with the fleet or the
elements was not clear, and Iberville did not ask.

He got his reply effectively and duly however. A
wind suddenly sprang up from the north-wesi:, fol-
lowed by a breaking cross sea. It as suddenly swelled
to a hurricane, so that if Berigord had not been for-
tunate as to his crew and had not been so fine a sailor,
tiie Maid of Provence mip,l)t have fared badly, for
he kept all sail on as Ic >:■ \s he dare, and took it in
none too soon. But so thoroughly did he know the
craft and trust his men that she did what he wanted ;
and though she was tossed and hammered by the sea
till it seemed that she must, with every next wave, go
down, she rode into safety at last, five hundred miles
out of their course.

The storm had saved them from the hostile fleet,

^^:

IN WHICH THE HUNTKHS /RE OUT. 171

whicli had fared ill. They were first scattered, chen
two of them went down, and another was so disabled
that she had to be turned back to the port they had
left, and the remaining two were separated, so that
their only course was to return to port also. As the
storm came up they had got within fighting distance
of the Maid of Provence, and had opened ineffectual
fire, which she — occupied with the impact of the
storm — did not return. Escaped the dangers of the
storm, she sheered into her course again, and ran
away to the south-west, until Ilispaniola came in
sight.

,1 *

CHAPTER XV.

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW.

The Briclf/ water Merchant uiid the Swallow
made the voyage down with no set-backs, having
fair weather and a sweet wind on tlieir quarter all
tlie way, to tlie wild corner of an island, where a
great mountain stands sentinel and a bay washes
upon a curving shore and up the river De la Planta.
There were no vessels i.^ the harbour and there
was only a small settlement on the shore, and as
they came to anchor well away from the gridiron of
reefs known as the Boilers, the prospect was hand-
some : the long wash of the waves, the curling white
of the breakers, and the .rainbow-coloured water. The
shore was luxuriant, and the sun shone intemperately
ou the 6tw and the land, covering all with a fine beau-
tiful ha^e, Mke the most exquisite powder sifted
through the air. All on board the Bridgwater
Merchant and the Swallow were in liearty spirits.

(172)

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW.

173

There had been some sickness, but the general health
ol the expedition was excellent.

It was not till tlie day they started from Boston
that Phips told Gering he expected to meet someone
at the port, who had gone to prepare the way, to warn
them by fires in case of danger, and to allay any op-
position among the natives — if there were any. But
he had not told him who the herald was.

Truth is, Phips was anxious that Gering should
have no chance of objecting to the scoundrel who had,
years before, tried to kidnap his now affianced wife —
who had escaped a deserved death on the gallows. It
was a rude age, and men cf Phips' quality, with no
particular niceness as to women, or horror as to
mutiny when it was twenty years old, compromised
with their conscience for expediency and gain. More-
over, in his humorous way, Bucklaw, during his con-
nection with Phips in England, had made himstir
agreeable and resourceful. Phips himself had sprung
from the lower orders, — the son of a small farmer, —
and even in future days, when hj rose to a high
position in the colonies, gaining knighthood and
other honours, he had the manners and speech of " a
man of the people." Bucklaw understood men : he

174

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOKD.

knew that his only game was that of bluntness. This
was why he boarded Pliips in Cheapside without sub-
terfuge or disguise.

Nor had Phips told Bucklaw of Gering's coming ;
so that when the Bridgwater Merchant and the
Sicallotu anteYcii Port de la Planta, Bucklaw him-
self, as he bore out in a small sailboat, did not guess
that he was likely to meet a desperate enemy, lie
had waited patiently, and had reckoned almost to a
day when Phips would arrive. He was alongside be-
fore Phips had called anchor. His cheerful counte-
nance came up between the frowning guns, his hook-
hand ran over the rail, and in a moment he was on
deck facing — Radisson.

He was unprepared for the meeting, but he had
taken too many chances in his lifetime to show aston-
isliment. He and Radisson had fought and parted ;
they had been in ugly business together, and they
were likely to be, now that they had met, in ugly
business, again.

Bucklaw's tiger ran up to stroke his chin with the
old grotesque gesture. " Ha ! " he said saucily, " cats
and devils have nine lives."

There was the same sparkle in the eye as of old,

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW.

175

the same buoyant voice. For himself, he had no
particular quarrel with Iladisson ; the more so because
he saw a hang-dog sulkiness in Kadisson's eye. It
was ever his cue when others were angered to be cool.
The worst of his crimes had been performed with
an air of humoroug cynicism, lie could have great
admiration for an enemy s ich as Iberville; and he
was not a man to fight needlessly, lie had a firm
belief that he had been intended for a high po-
sition — a great admiral, or general, or a notable
buccaneer.

Before Iladisson had a chance to reply, came
Phips, who could not help but show satisfaction at
Bucklaw's presence ; and in a moment they were on
their way together to the cabin, followed by the eyes
of the enraged Rudisson. Phips disliked Radisson ;
the sinister Frenchman, with his evil history, was im-
possible to the open, bluff captain. lie liad been
placed upon Phips' vessel because he knew the en-
trance to the harbour ; but try as he would for a kind
of comradeship he failed : he had an ugly vanity and
a bad heart. There was only one decent thing which
still clung to him in rags and tatters — the fact that
he was a Frenchman. He had made himself hated

t,i

; \

176

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOUD.

on tlie ship — having none of tlie cunning tact of
Bucklaw. As Phips and Hucklaw went below, a sud-
den devilry entered into him. He was ripe for
quarrel, eager for battle. His two black eyes were
like burning beads, his jaws twitched. If Bucklaw
liad but met him without this rough, bloodless irony,
he might have thrown himself with ardour into the
work of the expedition ; but he stood alone, and
hatred and war rioted in him.

Below in the cabin Phips and Bucklaw were deep
in the chart of the harbour and the river. The plan
of action was decided upon. A canoe was to be built
out of a cotton-tree large enough to carry eight or ten
oars. This and the tender, with men and divers, were
to go in search of the wreck under the command of
Bucklaw and the captain of the Stvallo?v, whose name
Phips did not mention. Phips himcelf was to remain
on the Bridgwnter Merchant^ the Stvallow lying near
with a goodly number of men to meet any possible
attack from the sea. When all was planned, Phips
told Bucklaw who was the commander of the Swal-
low. For a moment the fellow's coolness was shaken ;
the sparkle died out of his eye and he shot up a fur-
tive look at Phips, but he caught a grim smile on the

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAVV.

177

face of the sturdy sailor, llo knew at oiiec there was
no treachery meant, and he guessed that Phips ex-
pected no crisis. It was ever his way to act willi
promptness; being never so resourceful a? when his
position was most critical : he was in the power of
Gering and Phips, and he knew it, but he knew also
that his game must be a bold one.

"Bygones are bygones, captain," he said; "and
what's done can't be hel2)ed, and as it was no harm
came anyway."

" Bygones are bygones," replied the otlier, " and
let's liope that Mr. Gering will say so too."

" Haven't you told him, sirV "

" Never a word — but I'll send for him now, and
bygones let it be."

Bucklaw nodded, and drummed the table with his
tiger. He guessed why Phips had not told Gering,
and he foresaw trouble. lie trusted, however, to the
time that had passed since the kidnappinjr, and on
Gering's hunger for treasu-e. Phips had compro-
mised, and why not he? But if Gering was bent on
trouble, why, there was t'ne last resource of the peace-
lover! He tapped the rapier at his side. He ever
held that he was peaceful, and it is recorded that at

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178

THE 'IflAIL OF THE SWORD.

the death of an agitated victim, he begged him to
" sit still and not fidget."

He laid no plans as to what he should do when
Gering came. Like the true gamester, he waited to
see how he should be placed and then to draw upon
his resources. He was puzzled about Radisson, but
Radisson could wait; he was so much the superior of
the coarser villain that he gave him little thought.
As he waited he thought more about the treasure at
hand than of either — or all — his enemies.

He did not stir, but kept drumming till he knew
that Gering was aboard, and heard his footsteps, with
the captain's, coming. He showed no excitement,
though he knew a crisis was at hand. A cool, healthy
sweat stood out on his forehead, cheeks, and lips, and
his blue eyes sparkled clearly and coldly. He rose as
the two men apneared.

Phips had not even told his lieutenant. But Ger-
ing knew Bucklaw at the first glance, and his eyes
flashed and a hand went to his sword.

" Captain Phips," he said angrily, " you know who
this man is ? "

" He is the guide to our treasure-house, Mr. Gering."

" His name is Bucklaw — a mutineer condemned

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW.

179

to death, the villain who tried to kidnap Mistress
Leveret."

It was Bucklaw that replied. " Right — right you
are, Mr. Gering. I'm Edward Bucklaw, mutineer, or
what else you please. But that's ancient — ancient.
I'm sinner no more. You and Monsieur Iberville
saved the maid — I meant no harm to her ; 'twas but
for ransom. I am atoning now — to make your for-
tune, give you glory. Shall bygones be bygones, Mr.
Gering ? What say you ? "

Bucklaw stood still at the head of the table. But
he was very watchful. What the end might have
been it is hard to tell, but a thing occurred which
took the affair out of Gering's hands.

A shadow darkened the companion-way, and
Radisson came quickly down. His face was sinister,
and his jaws worked like an animal's. Coming to
the table, he stood between Gering and Bucklaw, and
he looked from one to the other. Bucklaw was cool,
Gering very quiet, and he misinterpreted.

" You are great friends, eh, all together ? " he said
viciously. " All together you will get the gold. It is
no matter what one English do, the other absolve for
gold. A buccaneer, a stealer of women — no, it is

180

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

no matter! All English — all together! But I am
French — I am the dirt — I am for the scuppers. Bah !
I will have the same as Bucklaw — you see ? "

" You will have the irons, my friend ! " Phips
roared, and blew his whistle.

A knife flashed in the air, and Bucklaw's pistol
was out at the same instant. The knife caught Buck-
law in the throat and he staggered against the table
like a stuck pig, the bullet hit Radisson in the chest
and he fell back against the wall, his pistol dropping
from his hand. Bucklaw, bleeding heavily, lurched
forward, pulled himself together, and, stooping, emp-
tied his pistol into the moaning Radisson. Then he
sank on his knees, snatched the dropped pistol, and
fired again into Radisson's belly ; after which, with
a last effort, he plunged his own dagger into the
throat of the dying man, and, with his fingers still on
the handle, fell with a gurgling laugh across the
Frenchman's body.

Radisson recovered for an instant. He gave a
hollow cry, drew the knife from his own throat, and,
with a wild, shambling motion, struck at the motion-
less Bucklaw, pinning an arm to the ground. Then
lie muttered an oath and fell back dead.

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW.

181

I am
Bah!

The tournament of blood was over. So swift had
it been there was no chance to interfere. Besides,
Gering was not inclined to save the life of either;
while Phips, who now knew the chart, as he thought,
as well as Bucklaw, was not concerned, though he
liked the mutineer.

For a moment they both looked at the shambles
without speaking. Sailors for whom Phips had
whistled crowded the cabin.

"A damned bad start, Mr. Gering!" Phips said,
as he moved towards the bodies.

" For them, yes ; but they might have given us
a bad ending."

" For the Frenchman, he's got less than was brew-
ing for him, but Bucklaw was a humorous dog."

As he said this he stooped to Bucklaw and
turned him over, calling to the sailors to clean the
red trough and bring the dead men on deck, but
presently he cried, "By the devil's tail, the fellow
lives! Here, a hand quick, you lubbers, and fetch
the surgeon ! "

Bucklaw was not dead. He had got two ugly
wounds and was bleeding heavily, but his heart still
beat. Radisson's body was carried on deck, and

.III!

182

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

within half an hour was dropped into the deep. The
surgeon, however, would not permit Bucklaw to be
removed until he had been eared for, and so Phips
and Gering went on deck and made preparations for
the treasure-hunt. A canoe was hollowed out by a
dozen men in a few hours, the tender was got ready,
the men and divers told off, and Gering took com-
mand of the searching party, while Phips remained
on the ship.

They soon had everything ready for a start in the
morning. Word was brought that Bucklaw still
lived, but was in a high fever, and that the chances
were all against him ; and Phips sent cordials and
wines from his own stores, and asked that news be
bro'ight to him of any change.

"d]arly in the morning Gering, after having received
instrdctions from Phips, so far as he knew (for Buck-
law had not told all that was necessary), departed
for the river. The canoe and tender went up the
stream a distance, and began to work down from the
farthest point indicated in the chart. Gering con-
tinued in the river nearly all day, and at night
camped on the shore. The second day brought no
better luck, nor yet the third : the divers had seen no

IN THE MATTER OP BUCKLAW.

183

Testige of a wreck, nor any sign of treasure — nothing
except four skeletons in a heap, tied together with a
chain, where the water was deepest. These were the
dead priests, for whom Bucklaw could account. The
water was calm, the tide rising and falling gently,
and when they arrived among what was called the
Shallows, they could see plainly to the bottom. They
passed over the Boilers, a reef of shoals, and here
they searched diligently, but to no purpose; the
divers went down frequently, but could find nothing.
The handful of natives in the port came out and
looked on apathetically; one or two Spaniards also
came, but they shrugged their shoulders and pitied
the foolish adventurers. Gering had the power of
inspiring his men, and Phips was a martinet and was
therefore obeyed ; but the lifeless days and unre-
warded labour worked on the men, and at last the
divers shirked their task.

Meanwhile, Bucklaw was fighting hard for life.

As time passed, the flush of expectancy waned ;
the heat was great, the waiting seemed endless. Ad-
venture was needed for the spirits of the men, and of
this now there was nothing. Morning after morning

the sun rose in a moist, heavy atmosphere ; day after
13

184

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

day went in a quest which became dreary, and night
after night settled upon discontent. Then came
threats. But this was chiefly upon the Bridgwater
Merchant. Phips had picked up his sailors in Eng-
lish ports, and nearly all of them were brutal adven-
turers. They were men used to desperate enterprises,
and they had flocked to him because they smelled
excitement and booty. Of ordinary merchant sea-
men there were only a few. When the Duke of
Albemarle had come aboard at Plymouth before they
set nail, he had shrugged his shoulders at the motley
crew. To his hint Phips had only replied with a
laugh : these harum-scarum scamps were more to
his mind than ordinary seamen. At heart he him-
self was half-barbarian. It is possible he felt there
might some time be a tug-of-war on board, but he
did not borrow trouble. Bucklaw had endorsed
every man that he had chosen ; indeed, Phips knew
that many of them were old friends of Bucklaw.
Again, of this he had no fear ; Bucklaw was a jr>au
of desperate deeds, but he knew that in himself
Bucklaw had a master. Besides, he would pick up
in Boston a dozen men upon whom he could depend ;
&nd cowardice had no place in him. Again, the

IN THE MATTER OP BUCKLAW.

185

Swalloio^ commanded by Gering, was fitted out with
New England seamen; and on these dependence
could be put.

Therefore, when there came rumblings of mutiny
on the Bridgwater Merchant^ t lere was faithful,
if gloomy, obedience, on the Swallow. Had there
been plenty of \^ork to do, had they been at sea
instead of at anchor, the nervousness would have
been small; but idleness begot irritation, and irri-
tation mutiny. Or had Bucklaw been on deck, in-
stead of in the surgeon's cabin playing a hard game
with death, matters might not have gone so far as
they did; for he would have had immediate personal
influence, repressive of revolt. As it was, Phips had
to work the thing oui; according to his own lights.
One afternoon, when Gering was away with the
canoes on the long search, the crisis came. It was a
day when life seemed to stand still ; a creamy haze
ingrained with delicate blue had settled on land and
sea; the long white rollers slowly travelled over the
Boilers, and the sea rocked like a great cradle. In-
definitenoss of thought, of time, of event, seemed
over all ; on board the two ships life swung idly as
a hammock ; but only so in appearance.

186

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

Phips was leaning against the deck-house, watch-
ing tlirough liis glass the search-Canoes. Presently
he turned and walked aft. As he did so the surgeon
and the chief mate came running towards him. They
had not time to explain, for came streaming upon
deck a crowd of mutineers. Phips did not hesitate
an instant; he had no fear — he was swelling with
anger.

"Why now, you damned dogs I" he blurted out,
"what mean you by this? What's all this show of
cutlasses ? "

The ringleader stepped forward. " We're sick of
doing nothing," he answered. "We've come on a
wild-goose chase. There's no treasure here. Wo
mean you no harm ; we want not the shijj out of your

hands.

»»

" Then," cried Phips, " in the name of all the
devils, wl at want you ? "

" Here's as we think : there's nothing to be got
out of this hunt, but there's treasure on the high seas
all the same. Here's our offer: keep command of
your ship — and run up the black flag ! "

Phips' arm shot out and dropped the man to the
ground.

L n

IN THE MATTRR OF BUCKLAW.

187

to the

" That's it, you filthy rogncs ? " lio rourcd. " Mc
to turu pirate, eh ? You'd set to weaving ropes for
the necks of every one of us — blood of my soul."

He seemed not to know that cutlasses were threat-
ening him, not to be aware that the man at his feet,
clutching his weapon, was mad with rage.

" Now look," he said, in a big loud voice, " I know
that treasure is here, and I know we'll find it : if not
now, when we get Bucklaw on his feet."

*' Ay ! Bucklaw ! Bucklaw ! " ran through the
throng.

" Well, then, Bucklaw, as you say ! Now here's
what I'll do, scoundrels though you be. Let me hear
no more of this foolery, stick to me till the treasure's
found, — for God take my soul if I leave this bay till I
have found it ! — and you shall have good share of
booty."

He had grasped the situation with such courage
that the mutineers hesitated. He saw his advantage
and followed it up, asking for three of their number
to confer with him as to a bond upon his proposal.
After a time the mutineers consented, the bond was
agreed to, and the search went on.

CHAPTER XVI.

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE.

The canoes and tender kept husking up down
^.mong the Shallows, finding nothing. At last one
morning they pushed out from the side of the Briily-
water Merchant, more limp than ever. The stroke of
the oars was listless, but a Boston sailor of a merry
sort came to a cheery song —

" I knows a town, an' it's a fine town,

And many a brig goes sailin' to its quay;
I knows an inn, an' it's a fine inn,

An' a lass that's fair to see.
I knows a town, an' it's a fine town;

I knows an inn, an' it's a fine inn —
But my lass! an' the gay gown,

Which I have seen my pretty in !

" I knows a port, an' it's a good port,
An' many a brig is ridin' easy there ;
I knows a home, an' it's a good home,
An' a lass that's sweet an' fair.

(188)

IN TIIK TREASrilK HOUSE.

189

I knowH a port, an' it's a good port,
1 knows a homo, an' it s a good homo —

But O the pretty that is ray sort,
That's wearyin' till I come!

"I knows a day, an' it's a fine day.

The day a sailor man comes back to town.
I knows a tide, an' it's a good tide.

The tide that gets you quick to anchors down.
I knows a day, an' it's a fine day,

I knows a tide, an" it's a good tide —
And God help the lubber, 1 say,

That's stole the sailor man's bride!"

The song had its way with them and they joined
in, and lay to their oars with almost too much good-
will. Gering, his arms upon the side of the canoe,
was looking into the water idly. It was clear far
down, and presently he saw what seemed a feather
growing out of the side of a rock. It struck him as
strange, and he gave word to back water. They were
just outside the Boilers in deep water. Drawing back
carefully, he saw the feather again, and ordered one
of the divers to go down.

They could seo the man descend and gather the
feather, then he plunged deeper still and they lost
sight of him. But soon he came up rapidly, and was
quickly inside the boat, to tell Gering that he had

) i

190

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

seen several great guns. At this the crew peered over
the beat-side eagerly. Gering's heart beat hard. He
knew what it was to rouse wild hope and then to see
despair follow, but he kept an outward calm and told
the diver to go down again. Time seemed to stretch
to hours before they saw the man returning with
something in his arm. He handed up his prize, and
behold it was a pig of silver !

The treasure was found ; and there went up a great
cheer. All was activity, for, apart from the delight of
discovery, Pbips had promised a share to every man.
The place was instantly buoyed, and they hastened
back to the port with the grateful tidings to Phips.
With his glass he saw them coming, and by their
hard rowing he guessed that they had news. When
they came within hail they cheered, and when they
saw the siher the air rang with shouts.

As Gering stepped on board with the silver. Cap-
tain Phips ran forward, clasped it in both hands, and
cried, " We are all made, thanks be to God ! "

Then all hands were ordered on board, and be-
cause the treasure lay in a safe anchorage they got
the ships away towards it.

Bucklaw, in the surgeon's cabin, was called out

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE.

191

1 over
He
to see
itold
;retch
with
!, and *

be-
got

out

of delirium by the noise. He was worn almost to a
skeleton, his eyes were big and staring, his face had
Jie paleness of death. The return to consciousness
was sudden — perhaps nothing else could have called
him back. He wriggled out of bed and, supporting
himself against the wall, made his way to the door,
and crawled away, mumbling to himself as he went.

A few minutes afterwards Phips and Gering were
talking in the cabin. Phips was weighing the silver
up and down in his hands.

" At least three hundred good guineas here ! " he
said.

There was a shuffling behind them, and as Phips
turned, a figure lunged on him, clutched the silver
and hugged it ; it was Bucklaw.

" Mine ! mine ! " he called in a hoarse voice, with
great gluttonous eyes. " All mine ! " he cried again.
Then he gasped and came to the ground in ?i heap,
with the silver hugged in his arms. All at once he
caught at his throat ; the bandage of his wound fell
away and there was a rush of blood over the silver.
With a wild laugh he plunged face forward on the
metal — and the blood of the dead Bucklaw conse-
crated the first fruits of the treasure.

192

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

As the vessel rode up the harbour the body was
dropped into the deep.

"Worse men — worse men, sir, bide with the
king," said Phips to Gering. "A merry villain,
Bucklaw ! "

The ship came to anchor at the buoys, and no
time was lost. Divers were sent down, and by great
good luck found the room where the bullion was
stored. The number of divers was increased, and
the work of raising the bullion went on all that day.
There is nothing like the lust for gold in the hearts
of men. From stem to stern of the Bridywater
Merchant and the Swalloiu this wild will had its way.
Work went on until the last moment of sun. That
night talk was long and sleep short, and work was
on again at sunrise. In three days they took up
thirty-two tons of bullion. In the afternoon of the
third day the storeroom was cleared; and then they
searched the hold. Here they found, cunningly dis-
tributed among the ballast, a great many bags of
pieces-of-eight. These, having lain in the water so
long, were crusted with a strong substance, which
they had to break with iron bars. It was reserved for
Phips himself to make the grand discovery. He

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE.

103

donned a diving-suit and went below to the sunken
galleon. Silver and gold had been found, but he
was sure there were other treasures. After much
searching he found, in a secret place of the captain's
cabin, a chest, which, on being raised and broken
open, was found full of pearls, diamonds and other
precious stones.

And now the work was complete, and on board
the Bridgwater Merchant was treasure to the sum of
three hundred thousand pounds and more. Joyfully
did Phips raise anchor. But first he sent to the
handful of people in the port a liberal gift of money
and wine and provisions from the ship's stores. With
a favourable breeze he got away agreeably, and was
clear of the harbour and cleaving northward before
sunset — the Sivalloto leading the treasure-ship like a
pilot. All was joy and hilarity ; but there remained
one small danger yet ; they had raised their treasure
unmolested, but could they bring it to Boston and on
to England? Phips would have asked that question
very seriously indeed had he known that the Maid of
Provence was bowling out of the nor'-east towards
the port which he had just left.

The Maid of Provence had had a perilous travel.

194

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

Escaping the English warships, she fell in with a
pirate craft. She closed with it, plugged it with can-
non-shot, and drew oif, then took the wind on her
beam and came drifting down on her, boarded her,
and, after a swift and desperate fight, kilW every
pirate-rogue save one — the captain — whom for reasons
they made a prisoner. Then they sank the rover,
and got away to Port de la Planta as fast as they were
able. But by reason of the storm and the fighting,
and drifting out of their course, they had lost ten
days ; and thus it was they reached the harbour a few
hours after the Bridgiuater Merchant and the Swal-
low had left.

They waited till morning and sailed cautiously in

— to face disappointment. They quickly learned the
truth from the natives. There was but one thing to
do, and Iberville lost no time. A few hours to get
fresh water and fruit and to make some repairs, for
the pirate had not been idle in the fight — and then
Berigord gave the nose of the good little craft to the
sea, and drove her on with an honest wind, like a
hound upon the scent. Iberville was vexed, but not
unduly ; he had the temper of a warrior who is both
artist and gamester. As he said to Perrot, " Well,

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE.

195

Nick, they've saved us the trouble of lifting the
treasure ; we'll see now who shall beach it."

He guessed that the English ships would sail to
Boston for better arming ere they ventured to the
English Channel. He knew the chances were against
him, but it was his cue to keep heart in his follow-
ers. For days they sailed without seeing a single
ship ; then three showed upon the horizon and faded
away. They kept on, passing Florida and Carolina,
hoping to reach Boston before the treasure-ships, and
to rob them at their own door. Their chances were
fair, for the Maid of Provence had proved swift, good-
tempered and a sweet sailor in bad waters.

Iberville had reckoned well. One evening, after a
sail northward as fine as the voyage down was dirty,
they came up gently within forty miles of Boston,
and then, because there was nothing else to do, went
idling up and down ail night, keeping watch. The
next morning there was a mist in the air, which
might come fog. Iberville had dreaded this ; but he
was to have his chance, for even when Berigord's face
loured most the lookout from the shrouds called down
that he sighted two ships. They were making for
the coast. All sail was put on, they got ajvay to meet

196

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

the new-comers, and they were not long in finding
tliese to be their quarry.

Phips did not think that any ship would venture
against 'them so near Boston, and could not believe
the Maid of Provence an enemy. He thought her an
English ship eager to welcome them, but presently he
saw the white ensign of France at the mizzen, and a
round shot rattled through the rigging of the Bridg-
water Merchant.

But he was two to one and the game seemed with
him. No time was wasted. Phips' ships came to
and stood alongside, and the gunners got to work.
The Bridgwater Merchant was high in the water,
and her shot at first did little damage to the Maid of
Provence^ which, having the advantage of the wind,
came nearer and nearer. The Swalloiv^ with her
twenty odd guns, did better work, and carried away
the foremast of the enemy, killing several men. But
Iberville came on slowly, and, anxious to dispose of
the Swallow first, gave her broadsides between wind
and water, so that soon her decks were spotted with
dying men, her bulwarks broken in, and her main-
mast gone. The cannonade was heard in Boston,"
from which, a few hours later, two merchantmea

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE.

197

set out for the scene of action, each carrying good
guns.

But the wind suddenly sank, and as the Maid of
Provence^ eager to close with the Bridgwater Mer-
chant^ edged slowly down, a fog came between, and
the firing ceased on both sides. Iberville let his ship
drift on her path, intent on a hand-to-hand fight
aboard the Bridgwater Merchant ; the grappling
irons were ready, and as they drifted there was
silence.

Every eye was strained. Suddenly a shape sprang
out of the grey mist, and the Maid of Provence
struck. There was a crash of timbers as the bows of
the Swalloiu — it was she — were stove in, and then a
wild cry. Instantly she began to sink. The grap-
pling-irons remained motionless on the Maid of
Provence. Iborville heard a commanding voice, a
cheer, and saw a dozen figures jump from the shat-
tered bow towards the bow of his own ship intent on
fighting, but all fell short save one. It was a great
leap, but the Englishman made it, catching the
chains, and scrambing on deck. A cheer greeted him
— the Frenchmen could not but admire so brave a
feat. The Englishman took no notice, but instantly

198

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

i I;

turned to see his own ship lurch forward and, without
a sound from her decks, sink gently down to her
grave. He stood looking at the place where she had
been, but there was only mist. He shook his head
and a sob rattled in his throat ; his brave, taciturn
crew had gone down without a cry. He turned and
faced his enemies. They had crowded forward — Iber-
ville, Sainte-Helene, Perrot, Maurice Joval, and the
staring sailors. He choked down his emotion and
faced them all like an animal at bay as Iberville
stepped forward. Without a word Gering pointed to
the empty scabbard at his sid3.

" No, pardon me," said Iberville drily, " not as our
prisoner, monsieur. You have us at advantage ; you
will remain our guest."

" I want no quarter," said Gering proudly and a
little sullenly.

" There can be no question of quarter, monsieur.
You are only one against us all. You cannot fight ;
you saved your life by boarding us. Hospitality is
sacred ; you may not be a prisoner of war, for there is
no war between our countries."

" You came upon a private quarrel ? " asked
Gering.

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE.

199

" Truly ; and for the treasure — fair bone of figlit
between us."

There was a pause, in which Gering stood half
turned from them, listening. But the Bridgwater
Mercha7it had drifted away in the mist! Presently
he turned again to Iberville with a smile defiant and
triumphant. Iberville understood, but showed noth-
ing of what he felt, and he asked Sainte-Helene to
show Gering to the cabin.

When the fog cleared away there was no sign of
the Bridgwater Merchant^ and Iberville, sure that she
had made the port of Boston, and knowing that there
must be English vessels searching for him, bore away
to Quebec with Gering on board.

He parted from his rival the day they arrived —
Perrot was to escort him a distance on his way to
Boston.

Gering thanked him for his courtesy.

" Indeed, then," said Iberville, " this is a debt — if
you choose to call it so — for which I would have no
thanks — no. For it would please me better to render
accounts all at once some day, and get return in differ-
ent form. Monsieur."

" Monsieur," said Gering, a little grandly, " you
14

I !

200

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

have come to me three times ; next time I will come
to you "

A i-rust that you will keep your word," answered
Iberville, smiling.

That day Iberville, protesting helplessly, was
ordered away to France on a man-of-war, which had
rocked in the harbour of Quebec for a month await-
ing his return. Even Frontenac himself could not
help him, for the order had come from the French
minister.

1 come

isvvered

was

cli had

await-

ild not

French

CHAPTER XVII.

THE GIFT OF A CAPTIVE.

Fortune had not been kind to Iberville, but still
he kept a stoical cheerfulness. With the pride of a
man who feels that he has impressed a woman, and
knowing the strength of his purpose, he believed that
Jessica would yet be his. Meanwhile matters should
not lie still. In those days men made love by proxy,
and Iberville turned to De Casson and Perrot.

The night b 'ore he started for France they sat
together in a littie house flanking the Chdteau St.
Louis. Iberville had been speaking.

" I know the strength of your feelings, Iberville,"
said De Casson, " but is it wise, and is it right ? "

Iberville made an airy motion with his hand.
" My dear abbe, there is but one thing worth living
for, and that is to follow your convictions. See: I
have known you since you took me from my mother's
last farewell. I have believed in you, cared for you,

(201)

202

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

trusted you ; we have been good comrades. Come,
now, tell me: what would you think if my mind
drifted ! No, no, no ! to stand by one's own heart is
the gift of an honest man. I am a sad rogue, abb6,
as you know, but 1 swear I would sooner let slip the
friendship of King Louis himself than the hand of a
good comrade. Well, my sword is for my king. I
must obey him, I must leave my comrades behind,
but I shall not forget, and they must not forget." At
this he got to his feet, came over, laid a hand on the
abbe's shoulder, and his voice softened, "Abbe, the
woman shall be mine."

" If God wills so, Iberville."

« He will. He will ! "

" Well," said Perrot, with a little laugh ; " I think
God will be good to a Frenchman when an English-
man is his foe."

" But the girl is English— and a heretic," urged
the abbe helplessly.

Perrot laughed again. "That will make Him
sorry for her."

Meanwhile Iberville had turned to the table, and
was now reading a letter. A pleased look came on
his face, and he nodded in satisfaction. At last he

THE OIPT OP A CAPTIVE.

203

Como,
r mind
icurt is
), abb6,
dip the
nd of a
ng. I
jeliind,

" At
on the
3e, the

[ think
nglish-

urged

Him

ie, and
me on
ast he

folded it up with a smile and sealed it. " Well," ho
said, " the English is not good, for I have seen my
Shakespeare little this time back, but it will do — it
must do. In such things rhetoric is toothing. You
will take it, Perrot ? " he said, holding up the letter.

Perrot reached out for it.

"And there is something more." Iberville drew
from his finger a costly ring. It had come from the
hand of a Spanish noble, whose place ho had taken
in Spain years before. He had prevented his men
from despoiling the castle, had been bidden to take
what he would, and had chosen only this.

"Tell her," he said, "that it was the gift of a
captive to me, and that it is the gift of a captive to
her. For, upon my soul, I am prisoner to none other
in God's world."

Perrot weighed the ring up and down in his hand.
".i5tew," he said, " monsieur, it is a fine speech, but I
do not understand. A prisoner, eh? I remember
when you were a prisoner with me upon the Ottawa.
Only a boy — only a boy, but, holy Mother, that was
different! I will tell her how you never gave up;
how you went on the hunt after Grey Diver, the
Iroquois. Through the woods, silent — silent for days

204

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

and days, Indians all round us. Death in the brush,
death in the tree- top, d'eath from the river-bank. I
said to you, Give up ; but you kept on. Then there
were days when there was no sleep — no rest — we were
like ghosts. Sometimes we come to a settler's cabin
and see it ail smoking ; sometimes to a fort and find
only a heap of bones — and other things! But you
would not give up ; you kept on. What for ? That
Indian chief killed your best friend. AVell, that was

for hate ; you keep on and on and on for hate — and
you had your way with Grey Diver; I heard your axe
crash in his skull. All for hate ! And what will you
do for love? — I will ask her what will you do for
love. Ah, you are a great man — 7nais oiii! I will
tell her so."

" Tell her what you please, Perrot."

Iberville hummed an air as at some goodly pros-
pect. Yet when he turned to the others again there
grew a quick mist in his eyes. It was not so much
the thought of the woman as of the men. There
came to him with sudden force how these two com-
rades had been ever ready to sacrifice themselves for
him and he ready to accept the sacrifice. He was not
ashamed of the mist, but he wondered that the thing

THE GIFT OF A CAPTIVE.

205

had come to him all at once. He grasped the hands
of both, shook them heartily, then dashed his fingers
across his eyes, and with the instinct of every im-
perfect man, — that touch of the aboriginal in all of
us, who must have a sign for an emotion, — he went to
a cabinet and out came a bottle of wine.

An hour after, Perrot left him at the ship's side.
They were both cheerful. " Two years, Perrot ; two
years ! " he said.

"^7i, 7no7i grand capitaine! "

Iberville turned away, then came back again.
" You will start at once ? "

" At once ; and the abbe shall write."

Upon the lofty bank of the St. Lawrence, at the
Sault au Matelot, a tall figure clad in a cassock stood
and watched the river below. On the high cliff of
Point Levis lights were showing, and fires burning as
far off as the island of Orleans. And in that sweet
curve of shore, from the St. Charles to Beauport,
thousands of stars seemed shining. Nearer still, from
the heights, there was the same strange scintillation ;
the great promontory had a coronet of stars. In the
lower town there was like illumination, and out upon
the river trailed long processions of light. It was the

£06

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

feast of good Saint Anne de Beanpr6. All day long
had there been masses and processions on land. Hun-
dreds of Jesuits, with thousands of the populace, had
filed behind the cross and the host. And now there
was a candle in every window. Indians, half-breeds,
coureurs du hois, native Canadians, coigneurs, and
noblesse, were joining in the function. But De Cas-
son's eyes were not for these. He was watching the
lights of a ship that slowly made its way down the
river among the canoes, and his eyes never left it till
it had passed beyond the island of Orleans and was
lost in the night.

" Dear lad ! " he said, " dear lad ! She is not for
him ; she should not be. As a priest it were my duty
to see that he should not marry her. As a man," he
sighed — " as a man I would give my life for him."

He lifted his hand and made the sign of the cross
towards that spot on the horizon whither Iberville
had gone.

" He will be a great man some day," he added to
himself, — " a great man. There will be empires here,
and when histories are written Pierre's shall be a
name beside Frontenac's and La Salle's."

All the human affection of the good abb6's life

THE GIFT OP A CAPTIVE.

207

centered upon Iberville. Giant in stature, so ascetic
and refined was his mind, his life, that he had the in-
tuition of a woman and, what was more, little of the
bigotry of his brethren. As he turned from the
heights, made his way along the cliff and down Moun-
tain Street, his thoughts were still upon the same sub-
ject. He suddenly pau!:, d.

" He will marry the sword," he said, " and not the
woman."

How far he was right we may judge if we enter
the house of Governor Nicholls at New York one
month later.

i m

CHAPTER XVIII.

MAIDEN NO MORE.

It was late midsummer, and just such an evening
as had seen the attempted capture of Jessica Leveret
years before. She sat at a window, looking out upon
the garden and the river. The room was at the top
of the house. It had been to her a kind of playroom
when she had visited Governor Nicholls years before.
To every woman memory is a kind of religion ; and
to Jessica as much as to any, perhaps more than to
most, for she had imagination. She half sat, half
knelt, her elbow on her knee, her soft cheek resting
upon her firm, delicate hand. Har beauty was as fresh
and sweet as on the day we first saw her. More,
something deep and rich had entered into it. Her
eyes had got that fine steadfastness which only deep
tenderness and pride can give a woman: she had
lived. She was smiling now, yet she was not merry ;
her brightness was the sunshine of a nature touched

(208)

MAIDEN NO MORE.

J09

with an Arcadian simplicity. Such an one could not
be wholly unhappy. Being made for others more ^
than for herself, she had something of the divine gift
of self-forgetf ulness.

As she sat there, her eyes ever watching the river
as though for someone she expected, there came from
the garden beneath the sound of singing. It was not
loud, but deep and strong —

As the wave to the shore, as the dew to the leaf,
As the breeze to the flower,
As the scent of a rose to the heart of a child,
As the rain to the dusty land —
My heart goeth out unto Thee— unto Thee I
The night is far spent and the day is at hand.

As the song of a bird to the call of a star,

As the sun to the eye,

As the anvil of man to the hammers of God,

As the snow to the north —

Is my word unto Thy word — Thy word !

The night is far speiit and the day is at hand.

It was Morris who was singing. "With growth of
years had come increase of piety, and it was his cus-
tom once a week to gather about him such of the
servants as would for the reading of Scripture.

To Jessica the song had no religious significance.

210

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

m I

By the time it had passed through the atmosphere of
memory and meditation, it carried a different mean-
ing. Her forehead dropped forward in her fingers,
and remained so until the song ended. Then she
sighed, smiled wistfully and shook her head.

" Poor fellow ! poor Iberville I " she said, almost
beneath her breath.

The next morning she was to be jnarried. George
Gering had returned to her, for the second time de-
feated by Iberville. He had proved himself a brave
man, and, what was much in her father's sight, he
was to have his share of Phips' booty. And what was
still more, Gering had prevailed upon Phips to allow
Mr. Leveret's investment in the first expedition to re-
ceive a dividend from the second. Therefore she was
ready to fulfil her promise. Yet had she misgivings?
For, only a few days before, she had sent for the old
pastor at Boston, who had known her since she was a
child. She wished, she said, to be married by him
and no other at Governor Nicholls' house, rather than
at her own home at Boston, where there was none
other of her name.

The old pastor had come that afternoon, and she
had asked him to see her that evening. Not long

)here of
t mean-
fingers,
en she

almost

George
me de-
. brave
fht, he
at was
> allow
I to re-
he was
vings ?
he old
was a
y him
' than
none

C she
long

MAIDEN NO MORE.

211

after Morris had done with singing there came a tap-
ping at her .loor. She answered and old Pastor Mack-
lin entered — a white-haired man of kindly yet btern
countenance — by nature a gentleman, by practice a
bigot. He came forward and took both her hands as
she rose. " My dear young lady ! " he said, and
smiled kindly at her. After a word of greeting she
offered him a chair, and came again to the window.

Presently she looked up and said very simply, " I
am going to be married. You have known me ever
since I was born : do you think I will make a good
wife ? "

" With prayer and chastening of the spirit, my
daughter," he said.

" But suppose that at the altar I remembered an-
other man ? "

" A sin, my child, for which should be due sor-

row. '

The girl smiled sadly. She felt poignantly how
little he could help her.

" And if the man were a Catholic and a French-
man ? " she said.

" A papist and a Frenchman ! " he cried, lifting up
his hands. " My daughter, you ever were too play-

212

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

ful. You speak of things impossible. I pray you lis-
ten."

Jessica raised her hand as if to stop him and to
speak herself, but she let him go on. With the least
encouragement she might have told him all. She had
had her moment of weakness, but now it was past.
There are times when every woman feels she must
have a confidant or her heart will burst — have counsel
or she will die. Such a time had come to Jessica.
But she now learned, as we all must learn, that we
live our dark hour alone.

She listened as in a dream to the kindly bigot.
When he had finished, she knelt and received his
blessing. All the time she wore that strange, quiet
smile. Soon afterwards he left her.

She went again to the window. " A papist and a
Frenchman — an unpardonable sin ! " she said into the
distance. " Jessica, what a sinner art thou I"

Presently there was a tap, the door opened, and
George Gering entered. She turned to receive him,
but there was no great lighting of the face. He
came quickly to her, and ran his arm round her waist.
A great kindness looked out of her eyes. Somehow
she felt herself superior to him — her love was less and

MAIDEN NO MORE.

213

her nature deeper. He pressed her fingers to his lips.
" Of what were you thinking, Jessica?" he asked.

" Of what a sinner I am," she answered, with a sad
kind of humour.

" What a villain must I be, then ! " he responded.

" Well, yes," she said musingly ; " I think you are
something of a villain, George."

" Well, well, you shall cure me of all mine iniqui-
ties," he said. *' There will be a lifetime for it.
Come, let us to the garden."

" Wait," she said. " I told you that I was a sinner,
George ; I want to tell you how.''

" Tell me nothing ; let us both go and repent," he
rejoined, laughing, and he hurried her away. She
had lost her opportunity.

Next morning she was married. The day was
glorious. The town was garlanded, and there was
not an English merchant or a Dutch burgher but
wore his holiday dress. The ceremony ended, a trav-
ellfci ame among the crowd. He asked a hurried
question or two and then edged away. Soon he made
a stand under the trees, and, viewing the scene, nod-
ded his head and said, " The abbe was right ! "

It was Perrot. A few hours afterwards the crowd

iimt

1 I

f I

214

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

had goue and the governor's garden was empty. Per-
rot still kept his watch under the tree, though why he
could hardly say — his errand was useless now. But
he had the gift of waiting. At last he saw a figure
issue from a door and go down into the garden. Per-
rot remembered the secret gate, lie made a detour,
reached it, and entered. She was walking up and
down in the pines. In an hour or so she was to leave
for England. Her husband had gone to the ship to
do some needful things, and she had stolen out for a
moment's quiet. When Pv'^rrot faced her, she gave a
little cry and started back. But presently she recov-
ered, smiled at him, and said kindly, " You come sud-
denly, monsieur."

" Yet have I travelled hard and long," he answered.

"Yes?"

" And I have a message for you."

" A message ? " she said abstractedly, and turned a
little pale.

" A message and a gift from Monsieur Iberville."

He drew the letter and the ring from his pocket
and held them out, repeating Iberville's message.
There was a troubled look in her eyes, and she was
trembling a little now, but she spoke clearly.

MAIDEN NO MORE.

215

"Monsieur," she said, "you will tell Monsieur
Iberville that I may not ; I am married."

" So, madame," he said. " But I still must give
my message." When he had done so he said, " Will
you take the letter?" He held it out.

There was a moment's doubt and then she took it,
but she did not speak.

" Shall I carry no message, madame ? "

She hesitated. Then, at last, " Say that I wish
him good fortune with all my heart."

" Good fortune — Ah, madame ! " ho answered, in a
meaning tone.

" Say that I pray God may bless him, and make
him a friend of my country," she added in a low,
almost broken voice, and she held out her hand to
him.

The gallant woodsman pressed it to his lips. " I
am sorry, madame," he replied, with an admiring
look.

She shook her head sadly. " Adieu, mon3ieur ! "
she said steadily and very kindly.

A moment after he was gone. She looked at the

missive steadfastly for a moment, then thrust it into

the folds of her dress and, very pale, walked quietly
15

216

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

to the liouse, where, inside her own room, she lighted
a candle. She turned the letter over in her hand
once or twice, and her fingers liung at the seal. But
all at once she raised it to her lips, and then with a
grave, firm look, held it in the flame and saw it pass
in smoke. It was the last effort for victory.

lighted
cr liand
al. But
n witli a
V it pass

(Opocl) tl)e iTonrtl).
CIIAPTEIl XIX.

WHICH TELLS OF A IJUOTIIKU's BLOOD CRYING
FROM THE GROUND.

Two men stood leaning against a great gun aloft
on t^e heiglits of Quebec. The air of an October
morning fluttered the lace at their breasts and lifted
the long brown hair of the younger man from his
shoulders. His companion was tall, alert, bronzed,
grey-headed, with an eagle eye and a glance of au-
thority. He laid his hand on the shoulder of the
younger man and said, " I am glad you have come,
Iberville, for I need you, as I need all your brave
family — I could spare not one."

" You honour me, sir,'* was the reply ; " and, be-
lieve me, there is none in Quebec but thanks God
that their governor is here before Phips rounds Isle
Orleans yonder."

(217)

218

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

" You did nobly while I was away there in Montreal,
waiting for the New Yorkers to take it — if they could.
They were a sorry rabble, for they rushed on La Prai-
rie, — that meagre place — massacred and turned tail."

" That's strange, sir, for they are brave men,
stupid though they be. I have fought them."

" Well, well, as that may be ! We will give them
chance for bravery. Our forts are strong from the
Sault au Matelot round to Champigny's palace, the
trenches and embankments are well ended, and if
they give me but two days more I will hold the place
against twice their thirty-four sail and twenty-five
hundred men."

" For how long, your Excellency ? "

Count Frontenac nodded. " Spoken like a soldier.
There's the vital point. By the mass, just so long as
food lasts ! But here we are with near two thousand
men, and all the people from the villages, besides Cal-
li^res' seven or eight hundred, should they arrive in
time — and, pray God they may, for there will be work
to do. If they come at us in front here and behind
from the Saint Charles, shielding their men as they
cross the river, we shall have none too many ; but we
must hold it."

A BROTHER'S BLOOD CRYING.

219

Montreal,
ly could.
La Prai-
l tail."
e men,

^e them
rom the
ace, the
and if
he place
3nty-five

soldier.

long as

lousand

des Cal-

rrive in

be work

behind

as they

but we

The governor drew himself up proudly. He had
sniffed the air of battle for over fifty years with all
manner of enemies, and his heart was in the thing.
Xever had there been in Quebec a more moving sight
than when he arrived from Montreal the evening be-
fore, and climbed Mountain Street on his way to the
chateau. Women and children pressed round him,
blessing him ; priests, as he passed, lifted hands in
benediction ; men cheered and cried for joy ; in every
house there was thanksgiving that the imperious old
veteran had come in time.

Prevost the town mayor, Champigny the Intend-
ant, Sainte-Helene, Maricourt, and Longueil, had
worked with the skill of soldiers who knew their duty,
and it was incredible what had been done since the
alarm had come to Prevost that Phips had entered
the St. Lawrence and was anchored at Tadousac.

"And how came you to be here, Iberville?" queried
the governor pleasantly. " We scarce expected you."

"The promptings of the saints and the happy
kindness of King Louis, who will send my ship here
after me. I boarded the first merchantman with its
nose to the sea, and landed here soon after you left
for Montreal."

IflrT

220

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

" So ? Good ! See you, see you, Iberville : what
of the lady Puritan's marriage with the fire-eating
Englishman ? "

The governor smiled as he spoke, not looking at
Iberville. His glance was upon the batteries in lower
town. He had inquired carelessly, for he did not
think the question serious at this distance of time.
Getting no answer, he turned smartly upon Iberville,
surprised, and he was struck by the sudden hardness
in the sun-browned face and the flashing eyes. Years
had deepened the power of face and form.

" Your excellency will remember," he answered,
in a low cold tone, " that I once was counselled to
marry the sword."

The governor laid his hand upon Iberville's
shoulder. " Pardon me," he said. " I was not wise
or kind. But I warrant the sword will be your best
wife in the end."

" I have a favour to ask, your excellency."

" You might ask many, my Iberville. If all gen-
tlemen here, clerics and laymen, asked as few as you,
my life would be peaceful. Your services have been
great, one way and another. Ask, and I almost prom-

ise now.

?»

A BROTHER'S BLOOD CRYING.

221

" 'Tis this. Six months ago you had a prisoner
here, captured on the New England border. After
he was exchanged you found that he had sent a phm
of the fortifications to the Government of Massachu-
setts. He passed in the nf me of George Escott. Do
you remember?"

" Very well indeed."

" Suppose he were taken prisoner again ? "

" I should try him."

" And shoot him, if guilty ? "

" Or hang him."

" His name was not Escott. It was Gering — Cap-
tain George Gering."

The governor looked hard at Iberville for a mo-
ment, and a grim smile played upon his lips. " H'm !
How do you guess that ? "

"From Perrot, who knows him well."

"Why did Perrot not tell me?"

" Perrot and Sainte-Helene had been up at Sault
Sainte Marie. They did not arrive until the day he
was exchanged, nor did not know till then. There
was no grave reason for speaking, and they said noth-

ing

" And what imports this?"

«i

■ f.

222

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

" I have no doubt that Mr. Gering is with Sir
William Phips below at Tadousac. If he is taken let
him be at my disposal."

The governor pursed his lips, then flashed a deep,
inquiring glance at his companion. " The new mis-
tress turned against the old, Iberville!" he said.
" Gering is her husband, eh? Well, I will trust you :
it shall be as you wish — a matter for us two alone."

At that moment Sainte-Helene and Maricourfc
appeared, and presently, in the waning light, they all
went down towards the convent of the Ursulines, and
made their way round the rock, past the three gates to
the palace of the Intendant, and so on to the St.
Charles River.

Next morning word was brought that Phips was
coming steadily up, and would probably arrive that
day. All was bustle in the town, and prayers and
work went on without ceasing. Late in the afternoon
the watchers from the rock of Quebec saw the ships
of the New England fleet slowly rounding the point
of the Island of Orleans.

To the eyes of Sir William Phips and his men the
great fortress, crowned with walls, towers, and guns,
rising three hundred feet above 'the water, the white

nth Sir
iikeii let

a deep,
lew mis-
le said,
ist you :

5»

3ne.
aricourfc
they all
Qes, and
gates to
the St.

lips was
ve that
3rs and
;ernoon
le ships
e point

len the
I giius,
3 white

A BROTHER'S BLOOD CRYING.

223

banner flaunting from the chdteau and the citadel,
the batteries, the sentinels upon the walls — were sug-
gestive of stern work. Presently there drew away
from Phips' fleet a boat carrying a subaltern with a
flag of truce, who was taken blindfold to the Chdteau
St. Louis. Frontenac's final words to the youth were
these : " Bid your master do his best, and I will do

mine.

Disguised as a riverman, Ibsrville himself, with
others, rowed the subaltern back almost to the side of
the admiral's ship, for by the freak of some peasants
the boat which had brought him had been set adrift.
As they rowed from the ship back towards the shore,
Iberville, looking up, saw, standing on the deck Phips
and George Gering. He had come for this. He stood
up in his boat and took off his cap. His long clustering
curls fell loose on his shoulders, and he waved a hand
with a nonchalant courtesy. Gering sprang forward.
" Iberville ! " he cried, and drew his pistol.

Iberville saw the motion, but did not stir. He
called up, however, in a clear, distinct voice, "Breaker
of parole, keep your truce ! "

" He is right," said Gering quietly ; " quite right."

Gering was now hot for instant landing and at-

224

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

tack. Had Phips acted upon his advice the record
of the next few days might have been reversed. But
the disease of counsel, deliberation and prayer had
entered into the soul -of the sailor and treasure-hunter,
now Sir William Phips, governor of Massachusetts.
He delayed too long : the tide turned ; there could be
no landing that night.

Just after sundown there was a great noise, and
the ringing of bells and sound of singing came over
the water to the idle fleet.

" What does it mean ? " asked Phips of a French
prisoner captured at Tadousac.

" Ma foi ! That you lose the £'ame," was the
reply. " Callieres, the governor of Montreal, with his
Canadians, and Nicholas Perrot with his coureurs dn
hois have arrived. You have too much delay, mon-

sieur.

In Quebec, when this contingent arrived, the peo-
ple went wild. And Perrot vv^as never prouder than
when, in Mountain Street, Iberville, after three years'
absence, threw his arms round him and, kissed him on
each cheek.

It was in the dark hour before daybreak that Iber-
ville and Perrot met for their first talk after the long

A BROTHER'S BLOOD CRYING.

225

J record
d. But
yer had
-hunter,
ihu setts,
jould be

ise, and
Qie over

French

ivas the
with his
mrs du
jr, mon-

;he peo-

er than

le years'

him on

at Iber-
he long

separation. What had occurred on the day of Jessi-
ca's marriage Perrot had, with the Abbe de Casson's
help, written to Iberville. But they had had no words
together. Now, in a room of the citadel which looked
out on the darkness of the river and the deeper gloom
of the Levis shore, they sat and talked, a single candle
burning, their weapons laid on the table between
them.

They said little at first, but sat in the window
looking down on the town and the river. At last
Iberville spoke. " Tell me it all as you remember it,
Perrot."

Perrot, usually swift of speech when once started,
was very slow now. He felt the weight of every
word, and he had rather have told of the scalping of
a hundred men than of his last meeting with Jessica.
When he had finished, Iberville said, " She kept the
letter, you say ? "

Perrot nodded, and drew the ring from a pouch
which he carried. " I have kept it safe," he said, and
held it out. Iberville took it and turned it over in
his hand, with an enigmatical smile. " I will hand it
to her myself," he said, half beneath his breath.

" You do not give her up, monsieur ? "

III

22G

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

Iberville huiglied. Then he leaned forward, and
found Perrot's eyes in the half darkness. " Perrot,
she kept the letter, she would have kept the ring if
she could. Listen : Monsieur Gering has held to his
word ; he has come to seek me this time. He knows
that while I live the woman is nat his, though she
bears his name. She married him — Why? It is no
matter — he was there, I was not. There were her
father, her friends ! I was a Frenchman, a Catholic
— a thousand things! And a woman will yield her
hand while her heart remains in her own keeping.
Well, he has come. Now, one way or another he
must be mine. We have great accounts to settle, and
I want it done between him and me. If he remains
in the ship we must board it. With our one little
craft there in the St. Charles we will sail out, grapple
the admiral's ship, and play a great game : one against
thirty-four. It has been done before. Capture the
admiral's ship and we can play the devil with the
rest of them. If not, we can die. Or, if Gering lands
and fights, he also must be ours. Sainte-Hele^ne and
Maricourt know him, and they with myself, Cler-
mont, and Saint Denis, are to lead and resist attacks
by land — Frontenac has promised that : so he must

A BROTHER'S BLOOD CRYING.

227

van}, and

" Perrot,

le ring if

3ld to his

le knows

)ugh she

It is no

were her

Catholic

field her

keeping.

3ther he

ttle, and

remains

ne little

grapple

against

ure the

ith the

ig lands

t^ne and

f, Cler-

attacks

le mnst

be ours one way or another. lie must be cap-
tured, tried as a spy, and then he is mine — is
mine ! "

" Tried as a spy — ah, I see ! You would disgrace ?
Well, but even then he is not yours."

Iberville got to his feet. "Don't try to think it
out, Perrot. It will come to you in good time. I
can trust you — you are with me in all?"

" Have I ever failed you ? "

" Never. You will not hesitate to go against the
admiral's ship? Think, what an adventure! Re-
member Adam Dollard and the Long Sault ! "

What man in Canada did not remember that
handful of men, going out with an antique courage
to hold back the Iroquois, and save the colony,
and die? Perrot grasped Iberville's hand, and said,
"Where you go, I go. Where I go my men will
follow."

Their pact was made. They sat there in silence
till the grey light of morning crept slowly in. S'ill
they did not lie down to rest ; they were waiting for
De Casson. He came before a ray of sunshine had
pierced the leaden light. Tall, massive, proudly built,
his white hair a rim about his forehead, his deep eyes

228

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

watchful and piercing, he looked a soldier in disguise,
as indeed he was to-day as much a soldier as when he
fought at Turenne forty years before.

The three comrades were together again.

Iberville told his plans. The abbe lifted his fin-
gers in admonition once or twice, but his eyes flashed
as Iberville spoke of an attempt to capture the admi-
ral on his own ship. When Iberville had finished, ho
said in a low voice —

" Pierre, must it still be so — that the woman shall
prompt you to these things ? "

" I have spoken of no woman, abbe."

" Yet you have spoken." He sighed and raised
[lis hand. " The man — the men — down there would
destroy our country. They are our enemies, and we
do well to slay. But remember, Pierre — ' AVhat God
hath joined let no man put asunder ! ' To fight him
as an enemy of your country — well ; to fight him that
you may put asunder is not well."

A look, half-pained, half-amused, crossed Iber-
ville's face.

" And yet heretics — heretics, abbe ! "

" Marriage is no heresy."

" H'm — they say different at Versailles."

A BROTHER'S IJIiOOD CRYING.

229

disguise,
when he

his fin-
3 flashed
e adrni-
shed, he

an shall

1 raised
e would
and we
lat God
lit him
im that

I Iber-

" Since De Montespan went, and De Maintenon
rules?"

Iberville laughed. " Well, well, perhaps not."

They sat silent for a time, but presently Iberville
rose, went to a cupboard, drew forth some wine and
meat, and put some coffee on the fire. Then, with a
gesture as of remembrance, he went to a box, drew
forth his own violin, and placed it in the priest's
hands. It seemed strange that, in the midst of such
great events, — the loss or keeping of an empire, —
these men should thus devote the few hours granted
them for sleep ; but they did according to their na-
tures. The priest took the instrument and tuned it
softly. Iberville blew out the candle. There was
only the light of the fire, with the gleam of the slow-
coming dawn. Once again, even as years before in
the little house at Montreal, De Casson played — now
with a martial air. At last he struck the chords of a
song which had been a favourite with the Carignan-
Salidres regiment.

Instantly Iberville and Perrot responded, and
there rang out from three strong throats the
words —

230 TIIK TRAIL OF TUK SWOKI).

" There wns n king of Noriimiuly
And ho rodu forth to war,

Oai falnron falurette !
Ho had flvo liundrod nam — no more!

Gai j'alurun donde !

" There was a king of Norniandy,
Came Imck from war again ;
He brought a nmid, 0, fair was shef
And twice five hundred men —
Gai faluron falurette !
Gai faluron donde ! "

ill

They were still singing when soldiers came by tlie
window in the first warm light of sunrise. These
caught it up, singing it as they marched on. It was
taken up again by other companies, and by tlie time
Iberville presented himself to Count Frontenac, not
long after, there was hardly a citizen, soldier, or
woodsman, but was singing it.

The weather and water were blustering all that
day, and Phips did not move, save for a small at-
tempt — repulsed — by a handful of men to examine
the landing. The next morning, however, the attack
began. Twelve hundred men were landed at Beau-
port, in the mud and low water, under one Major
Walley. With him was Gering, keen for action —

A HltOTIIKU'S HLOOI) CRYING.

231

D by tlie

These

It was

ic time

lae, not

ier, or

1 that
lall at-
xamine
attack
Beau-
Major
tion —

he had persuaded Phips to allow him to fight ou
hind.

To meet the English, Iberville, Sainte-IIelenc,
ami Perrot issued forth with three hundred sharp-
shooters and a band of Huron Indian?. In the skir-
mish that followed Iberville and Perrot pressed with
a handful of men forward very close to the ranks of
the English. In the charge which the New Eng-
lander ordered, Iberville and Perrot saw Gering, and
they tried hard to reach him. But the movement be-
tween made it impossible without running too great
risk. For hours the fierce skirmishing went on, but
in the evening the French withdrew and the New
Englanders made their way towards the St. Charles,
where vessels were to meet them, and protect them as
they crossed the river and attacked the town in the
rear — help that never came. For Phips, impatient,
snent his day in a terrible cannonading, which did no
great damage to the town — or the cliff. It was a
game of thunder, nothing worse, and Walley and Ger-
ing with their men were neglected.

The fight with the ships began again at daybreak.

Iberville, seeing that Walley would not attack, joined

Sainte-Helene and Maricourt at the battery, and one
16

232

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

iili:

III;
ijiiiili

■ li

If ■Hi

of Iberville's shots brought down the admiral's flag-
staff, with its cross of St. George. It drifted towards
the shore, and Maurice Joval went out in a canoe un-
der a galling fire and brought it up to Frontenac.

Iberville and Sainte-Helene concentrated them-
solves on the Six Friends — the admiral's ship. In
vain Phips' gunners tried to dislodge them and their
guns. They sent ball after ball into her hull and
through her rigging ; they tore away her mainmast,
shattered her mizzenmast, and handled her as vi-
ciously as only expert gunners could. The New Eng-
lander replied bravely, but Quebec was not destined
to be taken by bombardment, and Iberville saw the
Six Friends drift, a shattered remnant, out of his line
of fire.

It was the beginning of the end. One by one the
thirty-four craft drew away, and Walley and Gering
were left with their men, unaided in the siege. There
was one moment when the cannonading was greatest
and the skirmishers seemed withdrawn, that Gering,
furious with the delay, almost prevailed upon the cau-
tious Walley to dash across the river and make a des-
perate charge up the hill, and in at the back door of
the town. But Walley was, after all, a merchant and

A BROTHER'S BLOOD CRYING.

233

il's flag-
to wards
moe un-
aac.

i them-
hip. In
md their
lull and
ainmast,
ir as vi-
ew Eng-
destined
saw the
: his line

one the

Gering

. There

greatest

Gering,

I the cau-

ke a des-

door of

lant and

not a soldier, and would not do it. Gering fretted
on his chain, sure that Iberville was with the guns
against the ships, and would return to harass his New
Englanders soon. That evening it turned bitter cold,
and without the ammunition promised by Phips, with
little or no food and useless field-pieces, their lot was
hard.

But Gering had his way the next morning. Wal-
ley set out to the Six Friends to represent his case to
the admiral. Gering saw how the men chafed, and
he sounded a few of them. Their wills were with
him : they had come to fight, and fight they would, if
they could but get the chance. With a miraculous
swiftness the whispered word went through the lines.
Gering could not command them to it, but if the men
went forward he must go with them ! The ships in
front were silent. Quebec was now interested in these
men near the St. Charles River.

As Iberville stood with Frontenac near the palace
of the Intendant, watching, he saw the enemy sud-
denly hurry forward. In an instant he was dashing
down to join his brothers, Sainte-Helene, Longueil,
and Perrot ; and at th,e head of a body of men they
pushed on to get over the ford and hold it, while

234

THE TRAIL OF THE SV70RD.

Frontenac, leading three battalions of troops, got
away more slowly. There were but a few hundred
men with Iberville, arrayed against Gering's many
hundreds ; but the French were bush fighters and the
New Englanders were only stout sailors and plough-
men. Yet Gering had no reason to be ashamed of
his men that day; they charged bravely, but their
enemies were hid to deadly advantage behind trees
and thickets, the best sharpshooters of the province.

Perrot had had his orders from Iberville: Iber-
ville himself was, if possible, to engage Gering in a
hand-to-hand fight ; Perrot, on the other hand, was
to cut Gering off from his men and bring him in a
prisoner. More than once both had Gering within
range of their muskets, but they held their hands, nor
indeed did Gering himself, who once also had a
chance of bringing Iberville down, act on his oppor-
tunity. Gering's men were badly exposed, and le
sent them hard at the thickets, clearing the outposts
at some heavy loss. His men were now scattered, and
he shifted his position so as to bring him nearer the
spot where Sainte-Hel^ne and Longueil were pushing
forward fresh outposts. He saw the activity of the
two brothers, but did not recognise them, and sent

A BROTiJER'S BLOOD CRYING.

235

ps, got
iindred
J many
and the
plough-
nied of
it their
d trees
^'iuce.
: Iber-
ng in a
nd, was
im in a
within
ids, nor
had a
oppor-
and le
(utposts
ed, and
rer the
mshing
of the
d sent

a handful of men to dislodge them. Both Sainte-
Hel(ine and Longueil exposed themselves for a mo-
ment, as they made for an advantageous thicket.
Gering saw his opportunity, took a musket from
a soldier and fired. Sainte-IIelene fell mortally
wounded. Longueil sprang forward with a cry of
rage, but a spent ball struck him.

Iberville, at a distance, saw the affair. With a
smothered oath he snatched a musket from Maurice
Joval, took steady aim and fired. The distance was
too great, the wind too strong ; he only carried away
an epaulet. But Perrot, who was not far from the
fallen brothers, suddenly made a dash within easy
range of the rifles of the British, and cut Gering and
two of his companions off from the main body. It
was done so suddenly that Gering found himself
between two fires. His companions drew close to
him, prepared to sell their lives dearly, but Perrot
called to them to surrender. Gering saw the fruit-
lessness of resistance and, to save his companions'
lives, yielded.

The siege of Quebec was over. The British con-
tented themselves with holding their position till
Walley returned bearing the admiral's orders to

236

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

;:|

embark again for the fleet. And so in dae time they
did — in rain, cold, and gloom.

In a few days Sir William Phips, having patched
up his shattered ships, sailed away, with the knowl-
edge that the capture of Quebec was not so easy as
finding lost treasure. He had tried in vain to effect
Geriug's release.

When Gering surrendered, Perrot took his sword
with a grim coolness and said, " Come, monsieur, and
see what you think your stay ith us may be like."

In a moment he was stopped beside the dead body
of Sainte-Helene. " Your musket did this," said
Perrot, pointing down. " Do you know him ? "

Gering stooped over and looked. " My God ! " he
said, " Sainte-Helene ! "

Perrot crossed himself and mumbled a prayer.
Then he took from his bosom a scarf and drew it
over the face of the dead man. He turned to Lon-
gueil.

" And here, monsieur, is another brother of Mon-
sieur Iberville," he said.

Longueil was insensible but not dangerously
wounded. Perrot gave a signal and the two brothers
were lifted and carried down towards the ford, fol-

A BROTHER'S BLOOD CRYING.

237

ime they

patched

I knowl-

easy as

to effect

is sword
eur, and
like."
3ad body
is," said

»>

3d ! " he

prayer,
drew it
to Lon-

)f Mon-

yerously
brothers
)rd, fol-

lowed by Perrot and Gering. On their way they met
Iberville.

All the brother, the comrade, in Iberville spoke
first. He felt Longueil's hand and touched his pulse,
then turned, as though he had not seen Gering, to the
dead body of Sainte-Helene. Motioning to the men
to put it down, he stooped and took Perrot's scarf
xrom the dead face. It was yet warm, and the hand-
some features wore a smile. Iberville looked lor a
moment with a strange, cold quietness. He laid his
hand upon the brow, touched the cheek, gave a great
sigh, and made the sacred gesture over the face ; then
taking his own handkerchief he spread it over the
face. Presently he motioned for the bodies to be car-
ried on.

Perrot whispered to him, and now he turned and
looked at Gering with a malignant steadiness.

" You have had the great honour, sir," he said,
"to kill one of the bravest gentlemen of France.
More than once to-day myself and my friend here " —
pointing to Perrot — '-could have killed you. Why
did we not? Think you that you might kill my
brother,, whose shoe latchet were too high for you ?
Monsieur, the sum mounts up." His voice was full

238

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

of bitterness and hatred. " Why did we spare you ? "
he repeated, and paused.

Gering could understand Iberville's quiet, vicious
anger. He would rather have lost a hand than have
killed Sainte-Hel^ne, who had, on board the Maid of
Provence, treated him with great courtesy. He only
shook his head now.

" Well, I will tell you," said Iberville. « We have
spared you to try you for a spy. And after — after ! "
— his laugh was not pleasant to hear.

" A spy ? It is false ! " cried Gering.

" You will remember, monsieur, that once before
you gave me the lie ! "

Gering made a proud gesture of defiance, but an-
swered nothing. That night he was lodged in the
citadel.

CHAPTER XX.

A TRAP IS SET.

Gerinq was tried before Governor Frontenac and
the full council. It was certain that he, while a
prisoner at Quebec, had sent to Boston j^lans of the
town, the condition of the defences, the stores, the
general armament and the approaches, for the letter
was intercepted.

Gering*s defence was straightforward. He held
that he had sent the letter at a time when he was a
prisoner simply, which was justifiable ; not when a
prisoner on parole, which was shameless. The tem-
per of the court was against him. Most important
was the enmity of the Jesuits, whose hatred of Puri-
tanism cried out for sacrifice. They had seen the
work of the saints in every turn of the late siege, and
they believed that the Lord had delivered the man
into their hands. In secret ways their influence was
strong upon many of the council, particularly those

(239)

240

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

■!

wlio wore not soldiers. A soldier cau appreciuto
bravery, and Gering had been courageous. But he
had killed one of the most beloved of Canadian offi-
cers, tlie gallant Sainte-Heleno ! Frontenac, who
foresaw an end of which the council could not know,
summed up, not unfairly, against Gering.

Gering's defence was able, proud, and sometimes
passionate. Once or twice his words stung his judges
like whips across their faces. He showed no fear;
he asked no mercy. He held that he was a prisoner
of war, and entitled to be treated as such. So strong,
indeed, was his pleading, so well did his stout courage
stand by him, that had Count Frontenac balanced
in his favour he might have been quit of the charge
of spying. But before the trial Iberville had had
solitary talk with Frontenac, in which a request was
repeated and a promise renewed.

Gering was condemned to die. It was perhaps the
bravest moment of a brave life.

" Gentlemen," he said, " I have heard your sen-
tence, but, careless of military honour as you are, you
will not dare put me to death. Do not think because
we have failed this once that we shall not succeed
again. I tell you that if, instead of raw Boston

A TRAP IS SET.

241

3preciiito
But he
lian ofti-
ac, who
ot know,

metimes
is judges
no fear;
prisoner
) strong,
courage
aalanced
3 charge
lad had
lest was

laps the

►ur sen-
ire, you
because
succeed
Boston

sailors, ploughmen, and merchant captains, and fish-
ing craft and trading vessels, I had three English
warships and one thousand men, I would level your
town from the citadel to the altar of St. Joseph's. I
do not fear to die, nor that I shall die by your will ;
but, if so, 'twill be with English loathing of injustice."

His speech was little like to mollify his judges,
and at his reference to St. Joseph's a red spot showed
upon many cheeks, while to the charge against their
military honour, Frontenac's e v i lighted ominously.
But the governor merely said, "You have a raw
temper, sir. We will chasten you with bread and
water ; and it were well for you, even by your strange
religion, to qualify for passage from this world."

Gering was taken back to prison. As he travelled
the streets he needed all his fortitude, for his fiery
speech had gone abroad, distorted from its meaning,
and the common folk railed at him. As chastening,
it was good exercise ; but when now and again the
name of Sainte-Helene rang towards him, a cloud
passed over his face ; that touched him in a tender
corner.

He had not met Iberville since his capture, but
now, on entering the prison, he saw his enemy not a

I )

242

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

dozen paces from the door, pale and stern. Neither
made a sign, but with a bitter sigh Gering entered.
It was curious how their fortunes liad sea-sawed the
one against t!:c other for twelve years.

Left alone in his cell with his straw and bread and
water, he looked round mechanically. It was yet
afternoon. All at once it came to him that this was
not the cell which he had left that day. He got up
and began to examine it. Like every healthy prison-
er, he thought upon means and chances of escape.

It did not seem a regular cell for prisoners, for
there was a second door. This was in one corner and
very narrow, the walls not coming to a .'ight angle,
but having another little strip of wall between. He
tried to settle its position by tracing in his mind the
way he had come through the prison. Iberville or
Perrot could have done so instinctively, but he was
not woodsman enough. He thought, however, that
the doorway led to a staircase, like most doors of the
kind in old buildings. There was the window. It
was small and high up from the floor, and even could
he loosen the bars, it were not possible to squeeze
through. Besides, there was the yard to cross and
the outer wall to scale. And that achieved, with the

A TItAP IS SET.

243

Neither
mtered.
wed the

3ad and
vas yet
liis was
got up
prison-
,pe.

ers, for

ler and

angle,

nd the

ille or

le was

, that

of the

hr. It

could

ueeze

s and

1 the

town still full of armed men, lie would have a perilous
run. lie tried the door : it was stoutly fastened ; the
bolts were on the other side ; the keyhole was filled.
Here A\ns sufficient exasperation. He had secreted a
small knife on his person, and he now sat down,
turned it over in his hand, looked up at the window
and the smooth wall below it, at the mockiug door,
then smiled at his own poor condition and gave him-
self to cheerless meditation.

He was concerned most for his wife. It was not
in him to give up till the inevitable was on him, and
he could not yet believe that Count Frontenac would
carry out the sentence. At the sudden thought of
the rope, — so ignominious, so hateful — he shuddered.
But the shame of it was for his wife, who had dissi-
pated a certain selfish and envious strain in him.
Jessica had drawn from him the Puritanism which
had made him self-conscious, envious, insular.

CHAPTER XXI.

AN UNTOWAltD MESSENGER.

A FEW days after this, Jessica, at her home in
Boston, — in the room where she had promised her
father to be George Gering's wife, — sat watching the
sea. Its slow swinging music came up to her through
the October air. Not far from her sat an old man,
his hands clasping a chair-arm, a book in his lap, his
chin sunk on his breast. The figure, drooping help-
lessly, had still a distinguished look, an air of honour-
able pride. Presently he raised his head, his drowsy
eyes lighted as they rested on her, and he said, " The
fleet has not returned, my dear? Quebec is not yet
taken?"

" No, father," she replied, " not yet."

" Phips is a great man — a great man I " he said,
chuckling. " Ah, the treasure ! "

Jessica did not reply. Her fingers went up to her
eyes ; they seemed to cool the hot lids.

(244)

AN I NTOWAlll) MESSKNUKR.

245

lome in
sed her
ing the
through
d man,
lap, his
g help-
lonour-
drowsy
, " The
lot yet

e said,

to her

"Ay, ay, it was good," he added, in a (juavcriiig
voice, " and I gave you your dowry ! "

Now tliere was a gentle, soft laugh of delight and
pride, and ho reached out a hand towards her. She'
responded with a little laugh which was not unlike
his, but there was something more : that old sweet
sprightliness of her youth, shot through with a haunt-
ing modulation, — almost pensiveness, — but her face
was self-possessed. She drew near, pressed the old
man's hand, and spoke softly. Presently she saw
that he was asleep. She sat for some time, not stir-
ring. At last she was about to rise and take him to
his room, but hearing noises in the street she stepped
to the window. There were men below, and this
made her apprehensive. She hurried over, kissed the
old man, passed from the room, and met her old serv-
ant Ilulm in the passage, who stretched out her hand
in distress.

" What is it, Hulm ? " she said, a chill at her
heart.

" Oh, how oan I tell you ! " quoth the wom.an.
"Our fleet was beaten, and — and my master is a
prisoner."

The wife saw that this was not all. " Tell me

246

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

everything, Hulm," she said trembling, yet ready for
the worst.

" Oh, my dear, dear mistress, I cannot ! "

" Hulm, you see that I am calm," she answered.
" You are only paining me."

" They are to try him for his life ! " She caught
her mistress by the waist, but Jessica recovered in-
stantly. She was very quiet, very pale, yet the
plumbless grief of her eyes brought tears to Hulm's
face. She stood for a moment in deep thought.

" Is your brother Aaron in Boston, Hulm ? " she
asked presently.

" He is below, dear mistress."

" Ask him to step to the dining-room. And that
done, please go to my father. And, Hulm, dear
creature, you can aid me better if you do not

weep

She then passed down a side staircase and entered
the diinng-room. A moment afterwards Aaron Hulm
came in.

" Aaron," she said, as he stood confused before her
misery, " know you the way to Quebec?"

" Indeed, madam, very well. Madam, I am sor-
ry-

AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER.

247

2ady for

iswered.

caught
3red in-
yet the
Hulm's
i.
1?" she

nd that
n, dear
do not

entered
Hulm

ore her

n sor-

" Let us not dwell upon it, Aaron. Can you get a
few men together to go there ? "

" Within an hour."

" Very well, I shall be ready."

"You, madam — ready? You do not think of
going ? "

" Yes, I am going."

" But, madam, it is not safe. The Abenaquis and
Iroquois are not friendly, and "

" Is this friendly ? Is it like a good friend, Aaron
Hulm ? Did I not nurse your mother when "

He dropped on one knee, took her hand and kissed
it. " Madam," he said loyally, " I will do anything
you ask ; I feared only for your safety."

An hour afterwards she came into the room where
her father still slept. Stooping, she kissed his fore-
head and fondled his thin grey hair. Then she spoke
to Hulm.

" Tell him," she said, " that I will come back soon :
that my husband needs me, and that I have gone to
him. Tell him that we will both come back — both,
Hulm, you understand ! "

" Dear mistress, I understand." But the poor soul

made a gesture of despair.
17

248

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

" It is even as I say. We will both come back,"
was the quiet reply. " Something as truthful as God
Himself tells me. — Take care of my dear father — I
know you will; keep frm him the bad news, and
comfort him."

Then with an affectionate farewell she went to her
room, knelt down and prayed. When she rose she
said to herself, " I am thankful now that I have no
child."

In ten minutes a little company of people, led by
Aaron Hulm, started away from Boston, making for a
block-house fifteen miles distant, where they were to
sleep.

The journey was perilous, and more than once it
seemed as if they could not reach Quebec alive, but
no member of the party was more cheerful than Jes-
sica. Her bravery and spirit never faltered before the
others, though sometimes at night, when lying awake,
she had a wild wish to cry out or to end her troubles
in the fast-flowing Richelieu. But this was only at
night. In the daytime action eased the strain, and at
last she v/as rewarded by seeing, from the point of
Levis, the citadel of Quebec.

They were questioned and kept in check for a

AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER.

249

3 back,"

as God

ather — I

3WS, and

it to her
rose she
have no

e, led by
ing for a
r were to

I once it
live, but
lan Jes-
fore the
awake,
Toubles
only at
, and at
Doint of

for a

time, but at length Aaron and herself were let cross
the river. It was her first sight of Quebec, and its
•massive, impregnable form struck a chill to her heart :
it suggested great sternness behind it. They were
passed on unmolested towards the Chateau St. Louis.
The anxious wife wished to see Count Frontenac him-
self and then to find Iberville. Enemy of her country
though he was, she would appeal to him. As she
climbed the steep steps of Mountain Street, worn with
hard travel, she turned faint. But the eyes of curious
folk were on her, and she drew herself up bravely.

She was admitted almost at once to the governor.
He was at dinner when she came. AVhen her message
was brought to him, his brows twitched with surprise
and perplexity. He called Maurice Joval, and ordered
that she be shown to his study and tendered every
courtesy.

A few moments later he entered the room. Won-
der and admiration crossed his face. He had not
thought to see so beautiful a woman. Himself an old
courtier, he knew women, and he could understand
how Iberville had been fascinated. She had arranged
her toilette at Levis, and there were few traces
of the long, hard journey, save that her hands and

250

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

«i

(»4

face were tanned. The eloquence of her eyes, the sor-
rowful, distant smile which now was natural to her,
worked upon the old soldier before she spoke a word. >
And after she had spoken, had pleaded her husband's
cause and appealed to the nobleman's chivalry, Fron-
tenac was moved. But his face was troubled. He
drew out his watch and 'studied it.

Presently he went to the door and called Maurice
Joval. There was whispering, and then the young
r 'in went away.

" Madam, you have spoken of Monsieur Iberville,"
said the governor. "Years ago he spoke to me of
you."

Her eyes dropped, and then they raised steadily,
clearly. " I am sure, sir," she said, " that Monsieur
Iberville would tell you that my husband could never
be dishonourable. They have been enemies, but noble
enemies."

" Yet, Monsieur Iberville migV I: be prejudiced,"
rejoined the governor. " A brother's life has
weight."

" A brother's life ! " she broke in fearfully.

" Madame, your husband killed Iberville's
brother."

AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER.

251

he sor-
to her,
a word.^
sbaiid's
, Fron-
d. He

klaiirice
young

Ji'ville,"
me of

teadily,
onsieur
never
noble

iced,"
'e has

uy-

rville's

She swayed. The governor's arm was as quick
to her waist as a gallant's of twenty-five : not his to
resist the despair of so noble a creature. He was
sorry for her; but he knew that if all had gone as
had been planned by Iberville, within a half-hour this
woman would be a widow.

"With some women, perhaps, he would not have
hesitated: he would have argued that the prize was
to the victor, and that, Gering gone, Jessica would
amiably drift upon Iberville. But it came to him that
she was not as many other women. He looked at his
watch again, and she mistook the action.

" Oh, your excellency," she said, " do not grudge
these moments to one pleading for a life — for jus-
tice."

" You mistake, madame," he said ; " I was not
grudging the tinje — for myself."

At that moment Maurice Joval entered and whis-
pered to the governor. Frontenac rose.

" Madame," he said, " your husband has escaped."

A cry broke from her. " Escaped ! escaped ! "

She saw a strange look in the governor's eyes.

" But you have not told me all," she urged ; " there
is more. Oh, your excellency, speak ! "

.1
■1%

252

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

"Only this, madame: he may be retaken

and-

" And then ? What then ? " she cried.

" Upon what happens then," he as di'ily as regret-
f uHy added, " I shall have no power."

But to the quick searching prayer, the proud elo-
quence of the woman, the governor, bound though ho
was to secrecy, could not be adamant.

" There is but one thing I can do for you," he said
at last. " You know Father Dollier de Casson ? "

To her assent, he added, " Then go to him. Ask
no questions. If anything can be done, he can do it
for you ; that he will I do not know."

She could not solve the riddle, but she must work
it out. There was the one great fact : her husband
had escaped.

"You will do all you can do, your excellency?"
she said.

" Indeed, madame, I have done all I can," he said.

With impulse she caught his hand and kissed it.
A minute afterwards she was gone with Maurice
Joval, who had orders to bring her to the abbe's
house — that, and no more.

The governor, left alone, looked at the hand that

AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER.

253

that

she had kissed and said, " Well, well, I am but a fool
still. Yet — a woman in a million! " He took out his
watch. « Too late ! " he added. " Poor lady ! "

A few minutes afterwards Jessica met the abbe on
his own doorstep. Maurice Joval disappeared, and
the priest and the woman w<^re alone together. She
told him what had just happened.

" There is some mystery," she said, pain in her
voice. " Tell me, has my husband been retaken ? "

" Madame, he has."

" Is he in danger ? "

The priest hesitated, then, presently inclined his
head in assent. " Yes."

" Once before I talked with you," she said, " and
you spoke good things. You are a priest of God. I
know that you can help me, or Count Frontenac
would not have sent me to you. Oh, will you take me
to my husband ? "

If Count Frontenac had had a struggle, here was
a greater. First, the man was a priest in the days
when the Huguenots were scattering to the four ends
of the earth. The Toman and her husband were
heretics, and what better were they than thousands of
others? Then, Sainte-Hel^ne had been the soldier-

254

THE

TRAIL

THE SWORD.

priest'

3 pupil.

Last of

al),

there was

Iberville,

over

whom

this woman had cast

a charm

perilous to his

soul's

salvation.

He loved Iberville as his own

son.

The priest in him decided against the woman ; the
soldier in him was with Iberville in this event — for
a soldier's revenge was its mainspring. But beneath
all was a kindly soul which intolerance could not
warp, and this at last responded.

His first words gave her a touch of hope.

" Madame," he said, " I know not that aught can
be done, but come.'

»>

over
5 his

son.
; the
—for
leath
I not

; can

CHyiPTER XXII.

FROM tiger's claw TO LION'S MOUTH.

Every nation has its traitors, and there was an
English rener ie soldier at Quebec. At Iberville's
suggestion he w ' made one of the guards of the
prison. It was he that, pretending to let Gering win
his confidence, at last aided him to escape through
the narrow oorner-door of his cell.

Gering got free of the citadel — miraculously, as ho
thought; and, striking off from th'^ road, began to
make his way by a roundabout to the St. Charles
River, where at some lonely spot he might find a boat.
No alarm had been given, and as time passed his
chances seemed growing, when suddenly there sprang
from the grass round him armed men, who closed in,
and at the 'points of swords and rapiers seized him.
Scarcely a word was spoken by his captors, and he
did not know who they were until, after h long de-
tour, he was brought inside a manor-house, and there,

(255)

256

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

in tlie light of flaring candles, faced Perrot and Iber-
ville. It was Perrot who had seized him.

" Monsieur," said Perrot, saluting, " be sure this is
a closer prison than that on the heights." This said,
ho wheeled and left the room.

The two gentlemen were left alone. Gering folded
his arms and stood defiant.

" Monsieur," said Iberville, in a low voice, " we
are fortunate to meet so at last."

" I do not understand you," was the reply.

"Then let me speak of that which was unfor-
tunate. Once you called me a fool and a liar. We
fought and were interrupted. We met again, with
the same ending, and I was wounded by the man
Bucklaw. Before the wound was healed I had to
leave for Quebec. Yc^s passed ; you know well how.
We met in the Spaniards* country, where you killed
my servant ; and again at Fort Rupert, you remember.
At the fort you surrendered before we had a chance
to fight. Again, we were on the hunt for treasure.
You got it ; and almost in your own harbour I found
you, and fought you and a greater ship with you, and
ran you down. As your ship sank you sprang from it
to my own ship — a splendid leap. • Then you were

FROM TIGER'S CLAW TO LION'S MOUTH. 257

nfor-
We
with
man
,d to
how.
illed
ber.
ance
sure,
und
and
m it
Iwere

my guest, and wo could not fight; all — all unfor-
tunate ! "

He ptiused. Gering was cool ; he saw Iberville's
purpose, and he was ready to respond to it.

" And then ? " asked Gering. " Your charge is
long — is it finished ? "

A hard light came into Iberville's eyes.

" And then, monsieur, you did me the honour to
come to my own country. We did not meet in the
fighting, and you killed my brother." Iberville
crossed himself. " Then " — his voice was hard and
bitter — " you were captured ; no longer a prisoner of
war, but one who had broken his parole. You were
thrown into prison, you were tried and condemned to
death. There remained two things : that you should
be left to hang, or an escape — that we should meet
here and now."

" You chose the better wav, monsieur."

" I treat you with consideration, I hope, mon-
sieur."

Gering waved his liand in acknowledgment, and
said, " What weapons do you choose ? "

Iberville quietly laid on the table a number of
swords.

258

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

" If I should survive this duel, monsieur," ques-
tioned Goring, " shall I be free ? "

" Monsieur, escape will be unnecessary."

" Before we engage, let me say that I regret your
brother's death."

" Monsieur, I hope to deepen that regret," an-
swered Iberville quietly. Then they took up their
swords.

ques-

t your

»>

an-

their

CHAPTER XXIII.

AT THE GATES OF MISFOKTUNB.

Meanwhile the abbe and Jessica were making
their way swiftly towards tlio manor-house. IMiey
scarcely spoke as they went, but in Jessica's mind was
a vague horror. Lights sparkled on the crescent shore
of Beauport, and the torches of fishermen flared upon
the St. Charles. She looked back once towards the
heights of Quebec and saw the fires of many homes —
they scorched her eyes. She asked no questions. The
priest beside her was silent, not looking at her at all.
At last he turned and said —

" Madame, whatever has happened, whatever may
happen, I trust you will be brave."

" Monsieur I'Abbe," she answered, " I have trav-
elled from Boston here — can you doubt it?"

The priest sighed. " May the hope that gave you
strength remain, madame ! "

A little longer and then they stood within a gar-

(259)

260

THE TRAIL OP THE SWORD.

den thick with plants and trees. As they passed
through it, Jessica was vaguely aware of the rich fra-
grance of fallen leaves and the sound of waves wasli-
ing the foot of the clififs.

The abbe gave a low call, and almost instantly
Perrot stood before them. Jessica recognised him.
With a little cry sh'^ stepped to him quickly and
placed her hand upon his arm. She did not seem
conscious that he wa? her husband's enemy : her hus-
band's life was in danger, and it must be saved at any
cost.

" Monsieur," she said, " where is my husband ?
You know. Tell me."

Perrot put her hand from his arm gently, and
looked at the priest in doubt and surprise.

The abbe said not a word, but stood gazing off
into the night.

" Will you not tell me of my husband ? " she re-
peated. "He is within that house?" She pointed to
the manor-house. "He is in danger; I will go to
him."

She made as if to go to the door, but he stepped
before her.

" Madame," he said, " you cannot enter."

AT THE GATES OF MISFORTUNE.

261

3y passed
rich f fa-
res wasli-

instantly
ised him.
ckly and
not seem
her hus-
ed at any

husband ?

itly, and

iizing off

she re-
ointed to
ill go to

! stepped

Just then the moon shot from behind a cloud, and
all their faces could be seen. There was a flame in
Jessica's eyes which Perrot could not stand, and he
turned away. She was too much the woman to plead
weakly.

" Tell me," she said, " whose house this is."

" Madame, it is Monsieur Iberville's."

She could not check a gasp, but both the priest
and the woodsman saw how intrepid was the struggle
in her, and they both pitied.

" Now I understand ! Oh, now I understand ! "
she cried. " A plot was laid. He was let escape that
he might be cornered here — one single man against a
whole country. Oh, cowards ! cowards ! "

" Pardon me, madame," said Perrot, bristling up,
" not cowards. Your husband has a chance for his
life. You know Monsieur Iberville — he is a man all
honour. More than once he might have had your hus-
band's life, but he gave it to him."

Her foot tapped the ground impatiently, her hands
clasped before her. " Go on ! oh, go on ! " she said.
" What is it? why is he here? Have you no pity, no
heart ? " She turned towards the priest. " You are
a man of God. You said once that you would help

262

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

me make peace between my husband and Monsieur
Iberville, but you join here with his enemies."

"Madame, believe me, you are wrong. I have
done all I could : I have brought you here."

" Yes, yes ; forgive me," she replied. She turned
to Perrot again. " It is with you, then. You helped
to save my life once — what right have you to destroy
it now? You and Monsieur Iberville gave me the
world when it were easy to have lost it ; now when
the world is everything to me because my husband
lives in it, you would take his life and break mine."

Suddenly a thought flashed into her mind. Her
eyes brightened, her hand trembled towards Perrot,
and touched him. " Once I gave you something,
monsieur, which I had worn on my own bosom. That
little gift— of a grateful girl, tell me, have you it
still ? "

Perrot drew from his doublet the medallion she
had given him, and fingered it uncertainly.

" Then you value it," she added. " You value my
gift, and yet when my husband is a prisoner, to what
perilous ends God only knows, you deny me to him.
I will not plead ; I ask ao my right. I have come
from Count Frontenac; he sent me to this good

[onsieur

I have

turned

helped

destroy

me the

iw when

tiusband

line."

d. Her

Perrot,

ething,

, That

you it

ton she

lue my
to what
lo him.
come
good

AT THE GATES OP MISFORTUNE.

2G3

priest here. AVere my husband in the citadel now I
should be admitted. He is here with the man who,
yen know, once said he loved me. My husband is
wickedly held a prisoner ; I ask for entrance to him."

Pleadings apprehension, seemed gone from her;
she stood superior to her fear and sorrow. The priest
reached a hand persuasively towards Perrot, and he
was about to speak, but Perrot, coming close to the
troubled wife, said, " The door is locked ; they are
there alone. I cannot let you in, but come with me.
You have a voice — it may be heard. Come."

Presently all three were admitted into the dim
hallwav.

CHAPTER XXIV.

IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED.

How had it gone with Iberville and Gering?

The room was large, scantily, though comfortably,
furnished. For a moment after they took up their
swords they eyed each other calmly. Iberville pres-
ently smiled : he was r'HMdling that night, years ago,
when by the light of the old P'ltch lantern they had
fallen upon each other, swordsmen, even in those
days, of more than iisiial merit. They had practised
greatly since. Iberville was the taller of the two,
Ge'ing the stouter. Iberville's eye was slow, calculat-
u\*x., penetrating; Gering's was swift, strangely vigil-
ant. Iberville's hand was large, compact, and supple ;
Gering's small and firm.

They drew and fell on guard. Each at first
played warily. Tliey were keen to know how much
of skill was likely to enter into this duel, for eacTi
meant that it should be deadly. In the true swords-

('2(54)

ED.

ring?

omfo^'tably,
k up their
irville pres-
, years ago,

n they had
in those
pi-actised

■ tlie two,
iv, calculat-

gely vigil-

nd supple ;

h at first
liow much
1, for eacli
[le swords-

IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED. «?f,5

man there is found that cur' jus sixLh pcjose, vrhich is
a combin .tion of touch, sight, apv r leabiaD, divina-
tion. They had scarcely made hr.' a f.ozen passes
before each knew that he was pitted agaiiist a master
of the art — an art partly lost in an age which oetter
loves the talk of swords than the handling of them.
But the advantage was with Iberville, not merely
because of more practice, — Gering made up for that
by a fine certainty of nerve, — but because he had a
prescient quality of mind, joined to the calculation of
the perfect gamester.

From the first Iberville played a waiting game.
He knew Gering's impulsive nature, and he wished to
draw him on, to irritate him, as only one swordsman
can irritate another. Gering suddenly led off with a
disengage from the carte line ; i.o tierce, and. as he
expected, met the short pai; 5 and riposte. Gering
tried by many means to draw Ibor ville's attack, and,
failing to do so played more .apidiythan he ought,
which was what Iberville wished.

Presently Iberville's chance came. In the care-
lessness of annoyance, Gering loft part of his sword
arm uncovered, while he was meditating a complex
attack, and he paid the penalty by getting a sharp

?r:

266

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

■"i<

prick from Iberville's-sword point. Tlie warning
came to Gering in time. When they crossed sword
again, Iberville, whether by chance or by momentary
want of skill, parried Gering's disengage from tierce to
carte on to hia own left shoulder.

Both had now got a taste of blood, and there is
nothing like that to put the lust of combat into a
man. For a moment or two the fight went on with
no special feat, but so hearty became the action that
Iberville, seeing Gering flag a little, — due somewhat
to loss of blood, — suddenly opened such a rapid at-
tack on the advance that it was all Gering could do
to parry, without thought of riposte, the successive
lunges of the swift blade. As he retreated, Gering
felt, as he broke ground, that he was nearing the wall,
and, even as he parried, incautiously threw a half-
glance over his shoulder to see how near. Iberville
saw his chance, his finger was shaping a fatal lunge,
♦vhen there suddenly came from the hallway a
woman's voice. So weird was it that both swords-
men drew back, and once more Gering's life was wait-
inpf in the hazard.

Strange to say, Iberville recognised the voice first.
lie was angered with himself now that he had paused

IN WUICn THE SWORD IS SHEATHED. 207

e warning
jsed sword
nomentary
m tierce to

id there is
bat into a
it on with
>ction that
somewhat
b rapid at-
y could do
successive
id, Gering

the wall,
Iv a half-

Iberville
jtal lunge,
jail way a
sword s-
Iwas wait-

)ice first.
u paused

upon the lunge and saved Gering. Suddenly there
rioted in him the disappointed vengeance of years.
He had lost her once by sparing this man's life.
Should he lose her again ? His sword flashed upward.
At that moment Goring recognised his wife's voice,

and he turned pale. " My wife ! " he said.

They closed again. Gering was now as cold as he
had before been ardent, and he played with malicious
strength and persistency. . His nerves seemed of iron.
But there had come to Iberville the sardonic joy of
one who plays for the final hazard, knowing that he
shall win. There was one great move he had reserved
for the last. With the woman's voice at the door
beseeching, her fingers trembling upon the panel,
they could not prolong the fight. Therefore, at the
moment when Gering was pressing Iberville hard, the
Frenchman suddenly, with a trick of the Italian
school, threw his left leg en arriere and made a lunge,
which ordinarily would have spitted his enemy, but at
the critical moment one word came ringing clearly
through the locked door. It was his own name, not
Iberville, but — " Pierre ! Pierre ! "

He had never heard the voice speak that name.
It put out his judgment, and instead of his sword

208

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOUD.

passing through Goriug's body it ouly grazed his
ribs.

Perhaps there was in him some ancient touch of
superstition, some sense cf fatahsm, which now made
liim rise to his feet and tlirow his sword upon the
table.

" Monsieur," he said cynically, " again we are un-
fortunate."

Then he went to the door, unlocked it, and threw
it open upon Jessica. She came in upon them trem-
bling, pale, yet glowing with her anxiety.

Instantly Iberville was all courtesy. One could
not have guessed that he had just been engaged in a
deadly conflict. As his wife entered, Gering put his
sword aside. Iberville closed the door, and the three
stood looking at each other for a moment. Jessica
did not throw herself into her husband's arms. The
position was too painful, too tragic, for even the great
emotion in her heart. Behind Iberville's courtesy
she read the deadly mischief. But she had a power
born for imminent circumstances, and her mind was
made up as to her course. It had been made up
when, at the critical moment, she had called ouc Iber-
ville's Christian name. She rightly judged that this

razed his

touch of
low mado
upon the

3 are un-

uci tlirew
em trem-

ue could
iged in a
put his
|ho three
Jessica
s. The
le great
curtesy
power
ind was
|ade up
c Iber-
at this

IN WHICH THE SWOUD IS SHEATHED. 2G9

liad saved her husband's life, for she guessed that
Iberville was the better swordsman.

She placed her hands with sliglit resistance on the
arms of her husband, who was about to clasp her to
his breast, and said, " I am glad to find you, George."
Tliat was all.

lie also had heard that cry, " Pierre," and he felt
shamed that his life was spa 'ed because of it — he
knew well why the sword had not gone through his
body. She felt less humiliation because, as it seemed
to her, she had a right to ask of Iberville what no
other woman could ask for her husband.

A moment after, at Iberville's request, they were
all seated. Iberville had pretended not to notice the
fingers which had fluttered towards him. As yet
nothing had been said about the duel, as if by tacit
consent. So far as Jessica was concerned it might
never have happened. As for the men, the swords
were there, wet with the blood they had drawn, but
they made no sign. Iberville put meat and wine and
fruit upon the table, and pressed Jessica to take
refreshment. She responded, for it was in Iceeping
with her purpose. Presently Iberville said, as he
poured a glass of wine for her, " Had you been

270

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOllI).

expected, madame, there were better entertain-
ment."

" Your entertainment, monsieur," she replied,
"has two sides,"— she glanced at the swords — "and
this is the better."

" If it pleases you, madam.."

" I dare not say," she returned, " that my coming
was either pleasant or expected."

He raised his glass towards her, " Madame, I am
proud to pledge you once more. I recall the first
time that we met."

Her reply was instant. " You came, an ambassador
of peace to the governor of New York. Monsieur, I
come, an ambassador of peace to you."

" Yes, I remember. You asked me then what was
the greatest, bravest thing I ever did. You ever had a
buoyant spirit, madame."

" Monsieur," shf rejoined, with feeling, "will you
let mo answer that question for you now? The
bravest and greatest thing you ever did was to give a
woman back her happiness."

" Have I done so ? "

"In your heart, yes, I believe. A little while
ago my husband's life and freedom were in your

1
IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED. 271

3ntertain-

hands — you will place them in mine now, will you

not ? "

replied,

Iberville did not reply directly. He twisted his

Is — " and

wineglass round, sipped from it pleasantly, and said,

" Pardon mo, madamc, how were you admitted hero ? "

She told him.

y coming

"Singular, singular !" he replied ; "I never knew

Perrot fail me before. But you have eloquence,

me, I am

madame, and he knew, no doubt, that you would

the first

always be welcome to my home."

There was that in his voice which sent the blood

ibassador

stinging through Gering's veins. He half came to

msieur, I

his feet, but his wife's warning, pleading glance

brought him to his chair again.

vhat was

" Monsieur, tell me," she said, " will you give my

er had a

husband his freedom ? "

" Madame, his life is the State's."

will you

" But he is in your hands now. Will you not set

'? The

him free? You know that the charge against him is

give a

false — false ! He i? no spy. Oh, monsieur, you and

he have been enemies, but you know that he could

not do a dishonourable thing."

) while

" Madame, my charges against him are true."

u your

" I know what they are," she urged earnestly " but

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(716) S72.4503

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272

THE TRAIL OF THE SWOUD.

this strife is not worthy of you, and it is shaming me.
Monsieur, you know I speak truly."

"You called me Pierre a little while ago," he
said ; " will you not now ? "

His voice was deliberate, every word hanging in its
utterance. He had a courteous smile, an apparent
abandon of manner, but there was devilry behind all,
for here, for the first time, he saw this woman, fought
for and lost, in his presence with her husband, beg-
ging that husband's life of him. Why had she called
him Pierre ? Was it because she knew it would touch
a tender corner of his heart? Should that be so —
well, he would wait.

" Will you listen to me ? " she said, in a low, gentle
voice.

" I love to hear you speak," was his reply, and he
looked into her eyes as he had boldly looked years
before, but his gaze made hers drop. There was
revealed to her all that was in his mind.

" Then, hear me," she said slowly. " There was a
motherless young girl. She had as fresh and cheer •
ful a heart as any in the world. She had not many
playmates, but there was one young lad who shared
her sports and pleasant hours who was her good

IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED. 273

'nr-

friend. Years passed ; she was neariug womanhood,
the young man was still her friend, but in his mind
there had come something deeper. A young stranger
also came, handsome, brave, and brilliant. He was
such a man as any girl could like and any man admire.
The girl liked him, and she admired him. The two
young men quarrelled; they fought; and the girl
parted them. Again they would have fought, but
this time the girl's life was in danger. The stranger
was wounded in saving her. She owed him a debt —
such a debt as only a woman can feel ; because a
woman loves a noble deed more than she loves her
life — a good woman."

She paused, and for an instant something shook in
her throat. Her husband looked at her with a deep
wonder. And although Iberville's eyes played with
his glass of wine, they were fascinated by her face,

and his ear was strangely charmed by her voice.

" Will you go on ? " he said.

"The three parted. The girl never forgot the
stranger. What might have happened if he had
always been near her, who can tell — who can toll?
Again in later years the two men met, the stranger
the aggressor — without due cause."

!!,T

274

THE TRAIL OF Tl_^ SWORD.

I 8, .

" Pardon me, madame, the deepest cause," said
Iberville meaningly.

She pretended not to understand, and con-
tinued :

" The girl, believing that what she was expected
to do would be best for her, promised her hand in
marriage. At this time the stranger came. She saw
him but for a day, for an hour, then he passed away.
Time went on again, and the two men met in battle —
men now, not boys ; once more the stranger was the
victor. She married the defeated man. Perhaps she
did not love him as much as he loved her, but she
knew that the other love, the love of the stranger,
was impossible — impossible. She came to care for her
husband more and more — she came to love him. She
might have loved the stranger — who can tell ? But
a woman's heart cannot be seized as a ship or a town.
Believe me, monsieur, I speak the truth. Years again
passed : her husband's life was in the stranger's hand.
Through great danger she travelled to plead for
her husband's life. Monsieur, she does not plead for
an unworthy cause. She pleads for justice, in the
name of all honourable warfare, for the sake of all
good manhood. Will — will you refuse her ? "

e," said

id con-

jxpected

hand in

She saw

3d away.

battle —

was the

tiaps she

but she

tranger,

for her

n. She

? But

a town.

s again

s hand.

ad for

ead for

in the

of all

IN WHICH THE SWOHD IS SHEATHED. 275

She paused. Gering's eyes were glistening. Her
honesty, fine eloquence, and simple sincerity, showed
her to him in a new, strong light. Upon Iberville,
the greater of the two, it had a greater effect. He sat
still for a moment, looking nt the woman with the
profound gaze of one moved to the soul. Then he
got to his feet slowly, opened the door, and quietly
calling Perrot, whispered to him. Perrot threw up
his hands in surprise and hurried away.

Then Iberville shut the door, and came back.
Neither man had made any show of caring for their
wounds. Still silent, Iberville drew forth linen and
laid it upon the table. Then he went to the window,
and as he looked through the parted curtains out
upon the water — the room hung over the edge of the
cliff — he bound his own shoulder. Gering had lost
blood, but weak as he was he carried himself well.
For full half an hour Iberville stood motionless while
the wife bound her husband's wounds.

At length the door opened and Perrot entered.
Iberville did not hear him at first, and Perrot came
over to him. " All is ready, monsieur," he said.

Iberville, nodding, came to the table where stood,
the husband and wife, and Perrot left the room. He

'fil

276

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD.

iii

picked up a sword and laid it beside Gering, and then
waved his hand towards the door.

" You are free to go, monsieur," he said. *' You
will have escort to your country. Go now — pray, go
quickly."

He feared he might suddenly repent of his action,
and going to the door, he held it open for them to
pass. Gering picked up the sword, found the belt and
sheath, and stepped to the doorway with his wife.
Here he paused as if he would speak to Iberville :
he was ready now for final peace. But Iberville's
eyes looked resolutely away, and Gering sighed and
passed into the hallway. Now the wife stood beside
Iberville. She looked at him steadily, but at first he
would not meet her eye. Presently, however, he did so.

"Good-bye," she said brokenly, "I shall always
remember — al ways. "

His reply was bitter. " Good-bye, madame : i
shall forget."

She made a sad little gesture and passed on, but
presently turned, as if she could not bear that kind of
parting, and stretched out her hands to him. '

" Monsieur — Pierre ! " she cried, in a weak, chok-
ing voice.

IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED. 277

With impulse he caught both her hands in his and
kissed them. " I shall — remember, Jessica, " he said,
with great gentleness.

Then they passed from the hallway and he was
alone. He stood looking at the closed door, but
after a moment went to the table, sat down, and
threw his head forward in his arms.

An hour afterwards, when Count Frontenac en-
tered upon him, he was still in the same position.
Frontenac touched him on the arm and he rose. The
governor did not speak, but caught him by the
shoulders with both hands, and held him so for a
moment, looking kindly at him. Iberville picked up
his sword from the table and said calmly —

" Once, sir, you made it a choice between the
woman and the sword."

Then he raised the sword solemnly and pressed his
lips against the hilt-cross.

THE END.

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6. A Virginia Inheritawe. By Ei)Mi:ni> Pknim.kton-.

7. Ninette: An Idyll of Troveiice. By (lie author of Vera.

8. " The Kight lIonoK ruble.'" By Juwtim M(( "authy and M rn. rAMPBKM,-PnAED.

9. The Silence of Dean MuitlanU. By Maxwell (;«ay.

10. Mrs. Lorime'r: A Study in Black and White. By Lucas Malet.

11. The Elect Lady. By (iKOiuiE AlAt Donald.

Vi. T'le Mystery of thi'"-(h-ean Star."" By W. Claiik But^rtELL.

13. AristoiTdcy. A Novel.

14. A Ilecoiling Veiujeunc-. By Fuank Bauuett. With Illustrations.

15. The Secret of Font uini-lu-Vroi J' . By Maiuiauet Field.
10. The Master of liatdkeUij. By Hawley Smaut.

17. Donovan: A" Modern iJnplishnia'i. By Edna Lyall.

18. This Mortal Coil. By (jrant Allen.

19. A Fair Emigrant. By Rosa Mulholl/ no.
!iO. Tfie Apostate. By Eknest 1)ai:det.

21. Raleigh Westgate : or, Epimeniue;' in Maine. By Helen Kendrick Johnson.
82. Arius the Libyan .• A Romance rf the Piimitive Church.
2;^. Constance, and Calbot's Rival. By Julian JIawtiiornk.

24. We Two. By Edna Lyall.

25. A Dreamer of Ih'eams. By the autlior of Thoth.

2(J. The Ladies^ Gallery. By Justin McCarthy and Mrs. Campbell-Prabo.

27. The Reproach of Anmsley. By Maxwell Gray.

28. Near to Ifapjnness.

%. In <he Wire- Grass. By Louis Pendleton.

■iO. Lace. A Berlin Romance. By Paul Lindac.

3!. Anurican Coin. A Novel. By the author of Aristocracy.

32. Won by Waiting. By Edna Lyall.

33. The Story '^f Helen Davenant. By Violet Fane.

34. The Lighi of Her Co^intenance. By H. II. Boyesen.

35. Mistress Beatrice Cope. By M. E. Le Clerc.

36. Tfie Knight-Errant. By Edna Lyall.

37. In the Golden Days. By Edna Lyall.

38. Girnldi ; or, The Curse of Love. By Tvoss George Dek .;g.

39. A Hardif Norseman. By Edna Lyall.

40. The Romance of Jenny Harlowe., and Sketches of Maritime Life. By W.

Clark Russell.

41. Passion's Slave. By Richard Ashe-Kinq.

42. The Awakening of Mary Fenh':k. By Beatricf Whitby.

43. Count£ss Loreley. Translated froui the German v,: Rudolf Menoer.

44. Blind Love. By VVilkie Collins.

45. The Dean's Daughter. By Sophie F. F. Veitch.

46. Countess Irene. A Romance of Austrian Llf -^ By J. Fooerty.

47. Robert Broivnlng's Principal Shorter Poems.

48. Frozen Hearts. By G. Webb Appleton.

49. Djambek the Georgian. By A. G. von Suttner.

50. The Craze of Christian Enqelkart. By Henrt Faulkner Darnell.

51. ImI. By William A. Hammond, M. D.

52. Aline A Novel. By Henry Gr6ville.

53. Joost Avelingh. A Dutch Story. By Maarten Maartenh.

54. Katy of Gatoctin. By Georoe Alfred Townsend.

55. ThrocknurrTon. A Novel. By Molly Elliot ^^eawell.

56. Expatriation. By the author of Aristocracy.

57. Geoffrey Hampstead. By T. S. Jarvis.

APPLETON8 TOWN AND ('(JLNTKY LIBHAUY. {('on finned.)

58.
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01.
«2.
«W.
04.
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0».
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119.
120.

Ihnitri. A Honiancc of Old Kiisf-iu. Fiy F. W. Bain, M. A.
Part of flte- J^'o/xtiu. By Bkatiiick Wiiituy.
Jilmnarck in I'/irnfe IAj>. By a Fcllow-Studont.
In Low KMef, By Mo'iu.ky Koijeuti*.

The, VanadianH of old. A liiHturical Koniuncc. By Piiimi'I'k (iA^«l>6.
A Squire of Low Ihgrte. By Lii.y A. Long.
A Fluttered Dovecote. By (»Eo»«iE Manvii.i.e Fenn.
The Nagentx of ('(irriconna. An Iriwli Story. By Tiohe lloiM\iNt<.
A Sfutdtive iHaiU. By K. and 1). (jIekaku.

Doiia Luz. By Juan Vai.eha. Tranwlatcd t)y Mr». Mauy J. Serrano.
I'i'pitu Xiinenez. By Juan Vai.era. TraiiHlalud by Mrn. Marv J. Serrano
The J'litnen and their Xeighborn. By Kiciiaru Malcolm Johnston.
The Iron U'tiiu. By IIknhy F. Keenan.
StoiieH of Old New Spain. By Thomas A. Janvier.
The Matd of ]i''t/wr. By lion. Lkwin Winopield.
Jn the Heart ofihe Storm. By Maxwell Gray.
VonseguenceJi! By Euerton C'ahtle.
The Three Mintt Kinns. By Ada Cambridme.
A Matter of Skill, fiv Beatrice Whitby.
Maid Marian, and othar Stotieti. By Molly Elliot Sbawbli..
One Woman''s Way. By Edmund Pendleton.
A Mirc\fiil iJirorce. By F. W. Maude.
Stephen FWicotVa Daughter. By Mrs. J. II. Needell.
One Reason Why. By Beatbicb Whitby.
The Tragedy of Ida Noble. By W. Clark Rusxell.
The Johnstown Stage, and other Stories. By Uobert II. Fletcher.
A Widower Indeed. By Khoda Brouohton and Elizabeth Bir*LAND.
The Flight of Vie Shadow. By Gboroe MacDonald.
I^m or Money. By Katharine Lee.
Not All in Vain. By Ada Cambridoe.
It Happened Yesterday. By Frbderick Marshall.
Mu Guardian. By Ada Cambridge.
The Story of Philip Methuen. By Mrs. J. H. Needell.
Amethyst : The Story of a Beauty. By Christabel R. ('oleridcj-e.
Don Braulio. By Juan Valera. Translated by Clara Bell.
The Chronicles qf Mr. Bill Williams. By Richard Malcolsi Johnston.
A Queen qf Curds and Cream^. By Dorothea Gerard.
" La Bella " and Others. By Egerton Castle.
•' December Roues.'''' By Mrs. Campbell-Praed.
Jean de Kerdren, By Jeanne Schultz.
Etelka's Vow By Dorothea Gerard.
Cross Currents. By Mary A. Dickens.
His Lifers Magnet. By Theodora Elmslie.
Passing the Love of Women. By Mrs. J. H. Needbll.
In Old St. Stephe.A'g. Ey Jeanie Drake.

The Berkeleys and their Neighbors. By Molly Elliot Seawell.
Mono Maclean, Medical Student. By Graham Travers.
Mrs. Bligh. By Rhoda Brouohton.
A Stumble on the Threshold. By James Pay'n.
Hanging Moss. By Paul Lindau.
A Comedy of Elopement. By Christian Reid.
In the Suntime of her Youth. By Beatrice Whitb-v .
Stories in Black and White. By Thomas Hardy and Others.
, An Englishman in Paris. Notes and Recollections.
Commander Mendoza. By Juan Valera.
Dr. PauWs Theory. By Mrs. A. M. Diehl.
Children of Destiny. By Molly Elliot Seawell.
A Little Minv. By Ada Oambridoe.
CapVn Davy'' 8 Honeymoon. By Hall Cainb.
The Voice of a Flower. By E. Gerard.
Singularly Deluded. By Sarah Grand.
Suspected. By Lox'isa Stratenus.
Lucia, Hugh, and Another. By Mrs. J. H. Needbll.
The Tutor''s Secret. By Victor Cuerbuliez.

finnetf.)

AI'PLETONS' TOWN AND COUNTRY \mH\R\. -(f'onnnue'l.)

CtA»i'k.

CIN^<.

■<KKIlANO.
V .J. Skhkano

lN!«TON.

'CHBR.
Bl^LAND.

Johnston.

PLL.

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139.
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1.50.
151.
152.

Frmn the Fire liirern. By Mrx. F. A. Hteki..

An Innocent Im/MMfnr, ami other .stotifti. By Ma.vwki.i. (iiiAV.

Iileola. By Hauaii (iitANi>.

A Vomedy'of Miutki*. By Khnkst Dowson ami AitTinru Mourb.

Uelics. Bv Frances* MacNab.

Doilo: A Mtai of the Day. By K. F. Benson.

A Woman of Forty . By EwMfe Stuart.

Diana TemjkiMf. By Mary ("hoi.mondkley.

The Recipe for IHamondH. By C". J. C'utci.iffe Hyne.

ChHutlna (Jharit. By Mrs. ('A.MrBEi.L-I'RAKD.

A (tray Kye or So. By Frank Frankfort Moore.

Karlscourt. By Alexander Allardyce.

A Marriage Ceremony. By Ada CA-MiutiixiE.

.1 Ward In Chanc'ry. Hy Mr^. Ale.\anueu.

iMt li. By Dorothea (Jerari).

Our Manifold Xat II re. By Sarah (Jram).

.4 Coxtly Freak. By Maxwell Gray.

A H(^gtnner. By Hhoda Brouuhton.

A YelloH' Aster. By .Mrw. Manninotok Caffyn ("Iota").

The Rubicon. By E. F. Benson.

The TrespoHKer. By (Jilbert I'arker.

The Rich Misx Riddell. By Dorothea (Jeuaiid.

Mary Fenwick's Daughter. By Beatrice Whitby.

Red Diamonds. By Justin McCarthy.

A Daughter of Music, By G, Colmore.

Outlaw and Lawmaker. By Mrs. CAMPBEi.L-PRAEn.

Dr. Janet of Harley Street . By Arabella Kenealy.

George MdndeHlle''s Husban-t. By C. E. Kaimond.

Vashti and Esther.

Timar's Two Worlds. By M. Jokai.

A Victim of Good Luck. By W. E. Norris.

Tfie Trail of the Sword. By Gilijert Parker.

Each, 12mo. Paper, .^jO cents ; cloth, 75 cents and $1,00.

GEORG EBERS'S ROMANCES.

Cleopatra. Translated fro:n the (iennau by Mary J. Safford. 2 volumes.

A Thorny Path. (Per Aspera.) Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes.

An Egyptian Princess. Translated by Eleanor (4rove. 2 volumes.

Uarda. Translated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes.

IloHO Sum. Tran.slated by Clara Bell. 1 volume.

The Sisters. Translated by Clara Bell. 1 volume.

A Question. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume.

The Emperor. Translated by Clara Bei^l. 2 volumes.

The Burgomaster's Wife. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume.

A Word, only a Word. Tianslated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume.

Serapis. Translated by Clara Bell. 1 volume.

The Bride of t'ie Nile. Translated by Clara Bell. 2 voiumos.

Margery. (Gred.) T.anslated by Clara Bell. 2 volumes.

Joshua. Translated by Mary J. Safford. 1 volume.

The Elixir, and Other Tales. Translated by Mrs. Edward H. Bell. With
Portrait of the Author. 1 volume.

Each of the above, 16mo, paper cover. 40 cents per volume ; cloth, 75 cents.
Set of 82 volumes, cloth, in box, $10.50.

Also. 12mo edition of the above (except "A Question," "The Elixir," "Cleo-
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New York: D. APPLETON & CO., Publishera, 72 Fitlh Avenue.

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" Until th« Appletons discovered the merits of Maarten Maartens, the foremost of
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tion. To our mind this just published work of his is his liest. . . . He is a master ol
epigram, an artist in descriptior., a prophet in insight." — Bcstou Advertiser.

" It would take several coluAins to give any adequate idea of the superb way in
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/^OD'S FOOL. By Maarten Maartens. i2mo.
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" Throughout there is an epigrammatic force which would make pa'atable a less
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. . . Pathos deepens into tragedy in the thrilling story of'CJod's Voo\."'— Philadel-
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" Its preface alone stamps the author as one of the leading English novelists of
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"The story is wonderfully brilliant. . . . The interest never lags; the style is
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VOST AVELINGH. By Maarten Maartens.

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"A novel ofa very high type. At once strongly realistic an oowerfuUy id»al-
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" Full of local color and rich in quaint phraseology and suggestion." — London
Telegraph.

" Maarten Maartens is a capital story-teller."— /'«// Mall Gazette.

"Our English writers of fiction will have to look to their laurels "—.5/V;///«jf/«aw
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New York : D. APPLETON & CO.. 72 Fifth Avenue.

lif^h Life.
•1," "Joost

le foremost of
e were Dutch
:rican repiita-
is a master ol

jperb way in
e of the most
novels which

)veli X of the

i2mo.

itable a less
xy Review.

:ter-d rawing

•«

It literature.
'—Philadel

novelists of

the style is
btle humor,
il to read."

IRTENS.

the Dutch
t Morning

find more

fully idral-

' — London

'mingham

ae.