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-*■-'>

T:r'

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

4tikJ&-l';

Then camk the Prif.st, for InERVii.i.E, hattf.ked as hk was, would not stir

uNTii- THK Abbe had gonf. up.

THE

TRAIL OF THE SWORD

WHEREIN IS SET FORTH THE HISTORY OF JESSICA LEVERET,
AS ALSO THAT OF PIERRE LE MOYNE OF IBERVILLE,
GEORGE OERING, AND OTHER BOLD SPIRITS ; TO-
GETHER WITH CERTAIN MATTERS OF WAR, AND

THE DEEDS OF. ONE EDWARD BUCKLAW, JC) C
MUTINEER AND PIRATE. ' '

P3ry

GILBERT PARKER,

AUTHOR OF

' PIERRE AND HIS PHOPLH," "THE TRANSLATION OF A SAVAGE,"
"MRS. FALCHION," ETC.

TORONTO :
THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED.

'vv.

Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the
year one thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight, by
Gilbert Parker, London, £ngland, in the Office of ths
Minister of Agriculture.

»:■

1.4

DEDICATION

My Dear Father:

Once, many years ago^ in a kind of
despair^ you were impelled to say that I would
" never be anything but a rascally lawyer^ This^
it may be^ sat upon your conscience ^ for later you
turned me gravely towards Paley and the Thirty-
nine Articles ; and yet I know that in your deepest
soldiet^s hearty you really pictured me^ how
unavailinglyy in scarlet and pipeclay, and with
sabre, like yourself in youth and manhood. In
all I disappointed you, for I never had a brief or
a parish^ and it was anotJter son of yours who
carried on your military hopes. But as some
faint apology — / 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

DEDICATION

t '

} :

city of Quebec^ whose high ramparts you walked

first sixty years ago ; and for settings the beginning

of those valiant fightings ^ which, as I have heard

you say, ''through GocPs providence and James

Wolfe, gave England her best possession!*

You willy I feel sure, quarrel with the fashion
of my campaigns, and be troubled by my ana-
chronisms ; 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,
*' surrounded"* a dozen enemies, and drove them
prisoners to headquarters. " Surrounded " may have
been mere lack of precision, but it serves my turn
now, as you see. You once were — and I am pre-
cise here — a gallant swordsman : there are legends
yet of your doings with a crack Dublin bully.
Well, in the last chapter of this tale you shall
find a duel which will perhaps 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 Jacobus the hand is anothet^s.
Swordsmen are not so many now in the army or
out of it, that, among them, Mr. Walter Merries
Pollock's name will have escaped you: so^ if you
quarrel, let it be with Esau; though^ having good

DEDICATION 7

reason to be grateful to hinty that would cause me
sorrow.

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

tjtk September i8g4^
f Park Placet

St* Jame^Sy S, IV*

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 Hudson 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 foiight 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 on
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

NOTE

posts westward to the great lakes and beyond
the Missouri, and north to the shores of Hudson's
Bay. They traded and fought and revelled,
hot with the spirit of adventure, 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.

ii-

! I

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. AN BNVOY EXTRAORDINARY

II. THE THREAT OP A RENEGADE .

III. THE PACE AT THE WINDOW .

IV. THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS
V. THE FRUITS OF THE LAW ,

VL THE KIDNAPPING . •

FAGE
13
25
41
52

63
72

(Bfoch tht S^tconti

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 . .

"3
"25

133
149

161

(ifoch iht Ulnxh

XIII. "as water UNTO WINE"

XIV. IN WHICH THE HUNTERS ARE OUT
XV. IN THE MATTER OP BUCKLAW .

XVI. IN THE TREASURE HOUSE

XVIL THE GIFT OF A CAPTIVE

XVIII. MAIDEN NO MORE

• •

. 178

OUT ,

. 195

. .

• 203

• •

• 221

• •

. 235

* •

. 243

CONTENTS

CHAr.

(Bfoch tht JTourt^

XIX. WHICH TBLLS OF A BROTHBR's BLOOD CRYING
PROM THE GROUND .
XX. A TRAP IS SBT . . • •

XXI. AN UNTOWARD MBSSBNGBR
XXII. FROM TIGBR's CLAW TO LION's MOUTH

XXIII. AT THE GATES OF i. SFORTUNE ,

XXIV. IN WHICH THB SWORD IS SHEATHBD .

rAGB

277
283

295

299
305

I! ;

1 f.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

HIS CHBBRFUL COUNTENANCE CAME UP BETWEEN THB
FROWNING GUNS, HIS HOOK-HAND RAN OVER THB
RAIL, AND IN A MOMENT HB WAS ON THB DECK

PACING RADissoN I . . . . Frontispiece

through the open door, a young girl came into

the lane of light . . . . x4

"go back to quebec; offer to pay with your

neck" ...... 40

he bowbd to the governor as one who awaited
the expression op that officer's goodwill
and pleasure ..... 46

then came thb priest, for iberville, battered

AS HE WAS, WOULD NOT STIR UNTIL THB ABBA

HAD GONB DP . . . . . I46

HB RAISED THB SWORD SOLEMNLY, AND PRESSED HIS

LIPS AGAINST THB HILT-CROSS « . . 318

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

-♦-

(Bporb itft f'tt&t

CHAPTER I

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY

ONE summer afternoon a tall, good-looking
stripling stopped in the midst of the
town of New York, and asked his way to the
governor's house. He attracted not a little
attention, and he 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
Frontenac ! " cried old Richard NichoUs, bring-
ing his fist down on the table. For a few

1^ 1

«4

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

minutes he talked with his chamber-fellow;
then, ** Show the gentleman in/' he said.

In the room without, the envoy from Quebec
had stood flicking the dust from his leggings
with a scarf. He 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 g^ey eyes, a
strong pair of shoulders, a look of daring about
his rather large mouth, which lent him a manli-
ness 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 mechani-
cally, not as one forecasting danger, not as a
spy. In the curve of his lips, in an occasional
droop 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 girl came into
the lane of light, waved her hand, with a little
laugh, to someone in the distance, and stepped

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY 15

inside. At first she did not see him. Her
glances were still cast back the way she had
come. The young man could not follow her
glance, nor was he anything curious. Young as
he was, he could enjoy a fine picture. There
was a pretty demureness in the girl's manner, a
warm piquancy in the turn of the neck, and a
delicacy in her gestures, which to him, fresh from
hard hours in the woods, was part of some de-
lightful Arcady — though Arcady 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
scanty 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.

' I

„ ^;

:-1'

III

i-'^-

lis.'

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

She faced him, and gave a little cry of sur-
prise. Then their eyes met Immediately he
made the most elaborate bow of all his life, and
she swept a graceful courtesy. Her face was
slightly flushed that this stranger should have
se6n, but he carried such an open, cordial
look that she paused, instead of hunying into
the governor's room, as she had seemed inclined
to do. In the act the string of her hat, slung
over her arm, came loose, and the hat fell
to the floor. Instantly he picked it up and
returned it. Neither had spoken a word. It
seemed another act of the light pantomime at
the door. As if they had both thought on the
instant how droll it was, they laughed, and she
said to him naively: "You have come to visit the
governor? You are a Frenchman, are you not?"

To this in slow and careful English, "Yes,"
he replied ; " I have come from Canada to see
his excellency. Will you speak French ? "

"If you please, no," she answered, smiling;
" your English is better than my French. But
I must go." And she turned towards the door
of the governor's room.

.'•^ ■;

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY

** Do not go yet/' he said. " Tell me, are you
the governor's daughter ? "

She paused, her hand at the door. ** Oh no,
she answered ; then, in a sprightly way—** are
you a governor's son ? "

**I wish I were," he said, **for then there'd
be a new intendant, and we'd put Nick Perrot
in the council."

"What is an intendant?" she asked, **and
who is Nick Perrot ? "

'*Bien! an intendant is a man whom King
Louis appoints to worry the governor and the
gentlemen of Canada, and to interrupt the trade.
Nicolas Perrot is a fine fellow, and a great
coureur du hois^ and helps to get the governor
out of troubles to-day, the intendant 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 eyes and his
frank manner

**Who brought you here?" she asked de-
murely. ** Are they inside with the governor ? "

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

He saw the raillery ; though, indeed, it was
natural 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-posses-
sion, 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
merry light danced in her eyes and warmed her
cheek. She came a step nearer. " It is not so ?
You do not come from Count Frontenac — all
alone, do you ? "

** 1*11 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

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY

had scarce entered when the door opened again,
and the servant, a Scotsman, came out to say
that his excellency would receive him. He
went briskly forward, but presently paused. A
sudden sense of shyness possessed him. It was
not the first time he b' d been ushered into vice-
regal 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 with-
drawn 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 safely have bespoken for him
a large career. And even while the Scotsman
in the doorway eyed him with distant depreca-
tion, — as he eyed all Frenchman, good and bad,
ugly or handsome, — he put off his hesitation
and entered the governor's chamber. Colonel
Nicholls came forward to greet him, and

•P

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

then suddenly stopped, astonished. Then he
wheeled upon the girl. " Jessica, you mad-
cap I " 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 Frontenac 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 I " 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. " 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 thrust a hand into hir.

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY

•I

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 governor
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 pro-
ceed. Monsieur le Moyne of Iberville."

•* I am called Iberville," said the young man
simply. Then, " My father and myself started
from Quebec with good Nick Perrot, the
coureur du bois" —

•I know him too," the governor interjected

i..,

••

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

— "a scoundrel worth his weight in gold to your
Count Frontenac."

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

*' A very pretty wit," said old William Dray-
ton, nodding softly towards the gfirl, who was
v-asting 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
nothing. 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."

"But Perrot," said the governor bluffly, "would
have been the letter-carrier; you are a kind

AN ENVOY EXTRAORDINARY

of ambassador. Upon my soul, yes, a sort of
ambassador I " 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 man'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 fingers came to
the seal of the packet ; but the girl's hand
touched his arm.

** I know his name," she said in the governor'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."

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Standing up, with all due gravity and courtesy,
"Monsieur Iberville," he said, "let me present
you to Mistress Jessica Leveret, the daughter
of my good and honoured and absent friend,
the Honourable Hogarth Leveret."

So the governor and his councillor stood
shoulder to shoulder at one window, debating
Count Frontenac's message ; and shoulder to
shoulder at another stood Iberville and Jessica
Leveret And what was between these at
that 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 theii* elders

'%?t*..

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 Quebec 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 Carignan-Sali^res.
or by the greeting and gossip of such woodsmen
as Du Lhut, Mantet, La Durantaye, and, most
of all, his staunch friend Perrot, chief of the
coureurs du bois. Truth is, in his veins was
the strain of war and adventure first and before
all. Under his tutor, the good Pere Del Her de
Casson, he had never endured his classics, save

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

iii

I !

! I

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
had felt the lack of it in dealings with Dutch and
English traders, — only grew in proportion as he
was given Shakespeare and 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, and 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?"

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE 27

No one of her sex had ever talked so to Iber-
ville. Her demure raillery, her fresh, frank im-
pertinence, through which there ran a pretty
air of breeding, her innocent disregard of
formality, all joined to impress him, to in-
terest him. He was not so much surprised at
the elegance and cleverness of her speech, for
in Quebec girls of her age were skilled in
languages and arts, thanks to the great bishop,
Laval, and to Marie of the Incarnation. In
response to her a smile flickered upon his lips.
He had a quick fierce temper, but it had never
been severely tried ; and so well used was he to
looking cheerfully upon things, so keen had
been his zest in living, that, where himself was
concerned, his vanity was not easily touched.
So, looking with genial dryness, "You will
hardly believe it, of course," he said, " but
wings I have not yet grown, and the walking
is bad 'twixt here and the Chateau St. Louis."

" Iroquois traps," she suggested, with a smile.

"With a trick or two of English footpads,"
was his reply.

Meanwhile his eye had loitered between the

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

two men in council at the farther window and the
garden, mto which he and the girl were looking.
Presently he gave a little start and a low whistle,
and his eyelids slightly drooped, giving him a
handsome sulkiness. "Is it so?" he said be-
tween his teeth," Radisson — Radisson,as I live!"

He 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
coureur du 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, she
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,
" Pardon ! " he retorted. " Now I shall look as
blithe as the governor when a traitor deserts to
him."

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE 29

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, taking 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 speaking of
me or of your governor ? '*

" 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 Councillor 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 Iberville," he said, "that I
do not choose to find a sort of challenge in

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

your words ; and I doubt that your father, had
he been here, would have spoke 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
native courage. He swallowed the rebuke with
grace, and replied with frankness, " Radisson
is an outlaw. 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 west, who
were coming with their year's furs to our mer-
chants. 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 ex-
cellency, 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," he said "you are council,
judge, and jury all in one ; but I think I need

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE 31

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, let us talk awhile
together ; for, lest any accident befal 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 time I would rather point
my sword red than my quill 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 softness 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 TRAIL OF THE SWORD

the glorious freshness and primal majesty of the
new land, diffused 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 knev\^ that she could wind the big-
mannered soldier about her finger. She had
mastered his household, 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
deliberatings as he would have with Iberville
could well bear her scrutiny. He reached out
to pinch her cheek, but she deftly tipped her

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THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE 33

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 against 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 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 for-
ward, as if she were peering into that bygone
world which, may be, is wider than the future

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 expressed
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 atmos-
pheres of premonition ; as though the gods in
pity foreshadowed a great trouble, that the first
rudeness of misery might be spared.

She did not note that Iberville haa risen,
and had come round the table to look over
Councillor Drayton's shoulder at a map spread

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THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE 35

out. After stan^'ing a moment watching, the
councillor's finger his pilot, he 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, Radisson,
and with him the man who had so suddenly
mastered Jessica.

He turned to Colonel Nicholls. "Your
excellency," he said, "will you not let me tell
Count Frontenac that you forbid Radisson your

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

purlieus? For, believe me, sir, there is no greatei
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
thoughtfully. " He is proclaimed by Fron-
tenac ? " 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
ambassador and in your excellency's presence."

"You speak manfully, monsieur," said the
governor, 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 ti*c councillor, who
was peering between 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.

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE 37

Colonel Nicholls turned to Iberville. "You
shall have your way," he said. " Yon renegade
was useful when we did not know what sudden
game was playing from Chiteau St. Louis ; for,
as you can guess, he 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. He opened the door j but his
Scots bodyguard was not in sight. "That's
unusual,** he said. Then, looking 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 to
the man. " And look you, my good Morris," he
added, " tell Sherlock and Weir to stand ready.
I may need the show of firearms.*'

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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.*'

" I think I might venture two days with you,
sir, if for nothing else, to see Radisson pro-
claimed. Count Frontenac would gladly cut
nionths from his calendar to know you ceased
to harbour one who can prove no friend," was
the reply.

The governor smiled. " You have a rare taste
for challenge, monsieur. To be frank, I will
say your 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 eyes of the
woodsman travelled from face to face, and
then rested savagely on Iberville. He scented
trouble, and traced it to its source. Iberville
drew back to the window and, resting his arm
on the high stool where Jessica had sat, waited
the event. Presently the governor came over to
him.

THE THREAT OF A RENEGADE 39

" 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. "1
understand, your excellency," he said. " 1 will
go." He went to the door.

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'j face at a window, he was astonished
to see how changed. It wore a grave, an appre-
hensive 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.

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

At last he saw the fellow come forth between
two soldiers, and the woodsman turned his head
from side to side, showing his teeth like a wild
beast at sight of Iberville. His 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 deadly tooth. You have made
an outlaw — take care I When the outlaw tires
of the game, he winds it up quick. And
someone pays for the candles and the cards."

Iberville walked up to him. " Radisson," he
said in a 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 ;
offer 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 1 "

jL^ —

CHAPTER III

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW

AT the governor's table that night certain
ladies and gentlemen assembled to do the
envoy honour. There came, too, a young gentle-
man, 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
NichoUs and his sister being kinsfolk, a whole
twelvemonth ago she had been left with them.
Her father had thought at first to house her
with his old friend Edward Gering, but he loved
the Cavalier-like tone of Colonel NichoUs' house-
hold better than the less inspiriting air which
Madam Puritan Gering suffused about her home.

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THE TRATL OF THE SWORD .

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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
daughter. For all her abundancy of life and
feeling, he 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, he had surrounded her with
gracious influences. He looked forward to any
definite separation (as marriage) with apprehen-
sion. Perhaps one of the reasons why he chose
Colonel Nicholls' house for 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 — for-
tunate to know that wonder so young — at her
varying moods. She talked little, and most with

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW

the governor; but her presence seemed per-
vasive, 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 near. They had served with
Nicholls in Spain, but not having eaten King
Louis' bread, eyed all Frenchmen askance, and
were not needlessly courteous to Iberville,
whose achievements they could scarce appre-
ciate, having done no Indian fighting.

Iberville sat at the governor's end, Gering at
the 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, he began to speak to her with the
air of easy but deliberate playfulness 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 the bravest and greatest thing

you ever did ? "
"Jessica, Jessica I" said the governor in

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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reproof. An old Dutch burgher laughed into
his hand, and His Majesty's officers cocked
their ears, for the whisper was more arresting
than any loud talk. Iberville coloured, but the
flush passed quickly and left him unembarrassed.
He 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. But, smiling, he said dryly 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 jealousy
and envy. Only that afternoon he had spent
a happy hour with Jessica in the 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-consciousness,
persisting in her old ways, and showing only
when she left him, and then for a breath, that

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THE FACE AT THE WINDOW

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. He
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 playing. By
this time the dinner was drawing to its close,
and now a singular thing happened. As Jessica,
with demuie amusement, listened to the talk
that followed Iberville's sally, she chanced to
lift her eyes to a window. She started, changed
colour, and gave a little cry. The governor's
hand covered hers at once as he 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 Radisson.

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

She did not answer, but pressed his hand
nervously.

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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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

The governor went to the window and drew
the curtains. There was nothing to see. He
ordered Morris, who stood behind his chair, to
have the grou d 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 lurking
in the grounds and seized him. He had made
no resistance, and was now under guard in
the anteroom. The governor apologised to
his guests, but the dinner could not be ended
formally now, so the ladies rose and retired.
Jessica, making a mighty effort to recover her-
self, 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.

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THE FACE AT THE WINDO\

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 hour 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 viciousness. 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. Indeed,
the effect was almost comical when he lifted it
and scratched his head and then rubbed his
chin with it; it made him look part bumpkin
and part sailor. He bore the scrutiny of the
company very well, and presf.iitly bowed again
to the governor as one who waited che expression
of that officer's goodwill and pleasure.

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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" Now, fellow," said the colonel, " think your-
self lucky my soldiers here did not shoot you
without shrift You chance upon good-natured
times. When a spying stranger comes dangling
about these windows, 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 Gzvyntiy which
anchors in the roadstead till I have laid some
private business before your excellency and can
get on to the Spanish 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 ob-
servation, caught in his eyes, shining superficially

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THE face: at the window

with a sailor's open honesty, a strange ulterior
look. " My business," so he answered Nicholls,
" is for your excellency's ears." He bowed again.

** Have dene 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 gallows, 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 some-
thing 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 enterprii ing gentleman in

the world." He paused.

" So much for preamble ; now for the discourse."
4

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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"By your excellency's leave. I am a poor
man. I have only my little craft and a handful
of seamen picked up 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 Nicholls had an acquisitive instinct;
he was interested. " Well I well I gold and
silver," he continued, "to fill the Nell Gwynn
and another ? And what concern is that of mine ?
Let your words come plain oflf your tongue;
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 see me through."

THE FACE AT THE WINDOW

S»

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

" Babble, your honour I Every word of it is
worth a pint of guineas ; and this is the piih 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 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 get 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, and
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'sofficers
came in, and soon all four were busy with the map.

*iti

CHAPTER IV

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS

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IBERVILLE and Gering sat on with the
tobacco and the wine. The older "nen
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 his master's chair.

For 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 sharing 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's eyesight had been better, he would
have seen that Gering handled his wine

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS 53

nervously, and had put down his long Dutch
pipe. He would also have seen that Iberville
was smoking with deliberation, and drinking
with a kind of mannered coolness. Gering's
face was flush<id, his fine nostrils -.vere swelling
viciously, 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 concise, 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 begin-
ning. Gering had been moved by a boyish
jealousy ; Iberville, who saw the injustice of his
foolish temper, had played his new-found enemy
with a malicious adroitness. The aboriginal
passions were strong in him. He had como 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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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 home with flagrant emphasis the 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 remembered,
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
governor's chamber. She had waved her hand
into the distance and had said, " Foolish boy 1 "
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 accent.
"Foolish boy!" he said, and awaited, not for
long, the event

I'lilUi

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS 55

" 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 of quietness, even in
a boy. He 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 adventurous gentlemen
grown avaricious on a sudden.

"Monsieur, there is but one way. Well?"
repeated Iberville.

" I am ready," replied Gering, also getting tc
his feet

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

The Frenchman was at once alive to certain
difficulties. He knew that an envoy should not
fight, and that he could ask no one to stand
his second ; also that it ^uld not be possible
to arrange a formal duel between opposites so
young as Gering and himself. 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. Your^ ? "

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

Iberville forbore to point a moral, but walked
to the mantel, 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 we 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 frankness, " 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

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS 57

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 one 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 another way into the grounds
through a little hall 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 Iber-
ville. 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. The door creaked open and they stepped

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

out into the garden, Iberville leading the way.
He had not conned his surroundings that after-
noon 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 warriors,
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 incident
seemed strange to her, and she stood for a
moment listening. Then hearing the door shut,
she ran down the stairs, knocked at the dining-
room door and, getting no answer, entered,
meeting Morris as he came from the governor's
room.

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

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS 59

"The governor is in his room, mistress."

"Who are with him?'*

He told her.

"Where are the others?" she urged. **Mr
Gering 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 hards against it.
"O 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 creature of
abundant energy and sprightliness, she swept
through the night, from the comedy behind to
the tragedy in front ; the grey 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.

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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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, making a little trench in
the flesh.

She ran in on the.a from the gloom, saying in
a sharp, aching voice, "Stop, stop! Oh, what
madness ! "

The points dropped and they stepped back.
She stood between them, iooking from one to
the other. At that moment Morris burst in
also. " In God's name," he said, " is this your
honouring of the king's governor? Ye that
have eat and drunk at his table the nichtl
Have ye nae sense o' your manhood, young
gentlemen, that for a mad gossip ower 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 moodUy put on his coat and held his
peace. Iberville tossed his sword aside, and
presently wrung the blood from his white sleeve.

, TT'.

THE UPLIFTING OF THE SWORDS 6i

The girl saw him, and knew that he was wounded.
She snatched a scarf from her waist and ran
towards him. "You are wounded I " she said.
" Oh, take this."

" I am so much sorry, indeed," he answered
coolly, winding the scarf about his arm. " Mis-
tress 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. Made-
moiselle," he added, ^^ pardon / I regret what-
ever 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 impart it to the governor — at least,
not until Iberville had gone. Then they all

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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. They 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 in the Spaniards'
country thire 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 nxorning certain m'^^chants
were to visit his vessel, iruth 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 understand 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 capture from the

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THE TRAIT, OF THE SWORD

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 cele-
bration would begin in the afternoon and last til
sundown, so that all the governor's time must
be fully occupied. But Bucklaw said, with great
candour, that unfortunately he had to sail for
Boston within thirty-six hours, to keep engage-
ments with divers assignees for whom he had
special cargo. If his excellency, he said, would
come out to his ship the next evening when
the shows were done, he would be proud to have
him see his racketing little craft ; and it could
then be judged if, with furbishing and arma-
ments, 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 shipman's good nature and politeness
were vastly increased, 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

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THE FRUITS OF THE LAW

hour to row the governor and his friends to the
Nell 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 Gering to the dra>ving-room, was
once more at his post, taciturn as ever. The
governor and his friends had gone straight to
the drawin:j[-room, so that Morris and he were
alone. Wine was set before the sailor and he
took oflf 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's 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 T
5

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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Morris, imperturbably deliberate, left the
room to seek the kitchen. Bucklaw got in-
stantly to his feet. His eye took in every
v'indow 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
candle, ran over, entered the hallway, and gave
a grunt of satisfaction. He hastily and softly
drew the bolts of the outer door, so that anyone
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 opened from
the hallway. He came b^ick 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 holdinar 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 buxomness of hts

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THE FRUITS OF THE LAW

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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
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."

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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
drily. " We cannot keep it up."

All this while a boat was rowing swiftly from
the shore of the island towards a craft carrying
Ne// 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 friends! They are all mad for the
doubloons, which are not for them, my Radis-
son, but for you and nSe, and for a greater than
Colonel Richard Nicholls. 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 London they
shall take him to their bosoms. Over in London

THE FRUITS OF THE LAW

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 Ni^-holls, 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 h's lip. At last,
" Bt'eUy" hQ 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 ? "

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

" That is good, dear lad. 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
partners once and for all. See, my beauty. He

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 con-
demned. 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. 1 did not hang ; I broke
prison and ran. For years I was a slave among
the Spaniards. Years more — m all, twelve —
and then I came back with the little chart for
one thing, this to do for another. Who was it
gave me that rogues' march from the stocks to
the gallows' foot? It was Hogarth Leveret,
who deals out law in Massachusetts vd the king's
name, by the grace of God. It was my whim
to capture him and take him on a journey —

^1, !■

THE FRUITS OF THE LAW

such a journey as he would go but once. Blood
of my soul, the dear lad was 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 nio 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 I 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. "Hal I cannot have
the father — so I'll have the goodly child, and
great will be the ransom. Great will be the
ransom, my Frenchman ! " And once more he
tapped Radisson with the tiger.

■V 19

CHAPTER VI

THE KIDNAPPING

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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 comfortably 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 Spaniards' country. So, when the aL:sk
was growing into night, the hour came for nis
visit to the NeU Gwynn. With his two soldier
friends and Councillor Drayton, he started by

THE KIDNAPPING

a roundabout for the point where he looked to
find Bucklaw. Bucklaw was not there : he had
other fish to fry, and the ship's h'ghts were gone.
She ha<f changed her anchora;.(e since afternoon.
" It's a bold scheme," Bucklaw was saying
to his fellow-rufiian 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. Til 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
Gwynn. Once outside it's all right. She can-
not 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 beach — the boat
in waiting — and so, up anchor and away!
Both risky, as you see, but the bolder the
game the sweeter the spoil. You're sure her
chamber is above that hallway, and that there's
a staircase to it from the main-hall ? "

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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

Bucklaw looked to his arms. He was about
starting on his quest when they heard footsteps,
and two figures appeared It was Iberville and
Gering. They ^ ,u«^ '', Tiomert not far from
where the rogu<"s v t -e Id.

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
when I have done with you," nswered 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 have fought and fallen,
Your scarf across my shoulder, lady mme.**

THE KIDNAPPING

They passed op "The game is in our
iiands," said Bucklaw. " I understand this
<hing. That's a pair of gallant young sprigs,
.jut the choice is your Frenchman, Radisson."

" ril p'nk Ills breast-bone full of holes if the
other doesn't — curse him."

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 changr I.
Ha ! I'll have my young lady out to stop t'le
duel, and, God's love, she'll come alone. Oi^ i
here she's ours, and they may cut each other's
throats as they will, sweetheart ! "

He crossed the yard, tried the door, — un-
locked, as he had left it, — pushed it open, and
went in, groping his way to the door of the
dining-room. He listened, and 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.

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Presently 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 yoiCd see two gentlemen fightings go now
where you stopped tJiem last night. The wrong
one may be killed unless^

With a quick flash of malice he signed, in
half 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 per-
fume. Jessica, returning, went straight to the
table. Before she sat down she looked up to
the mantel, 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

■i;:: ''II

I '■■ 'li.

THE KIDNAl riNG

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.
Everything was as she had left it She was
dazed. She stared at the paper again, then ran
and opened the panel through which Bucklaw
had passed, and 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 wa'
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 them and swerved, poor
child, into the gin of the fowler I 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 hurriedly, "It is Jessica!"

Without a word Iberville leaped to the open,
and came into it ahead of Gering. They saw
the kidnappers and ran. Iberville was the first

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

l^iiii

to find what Bucklaw was carrying. "Mother
of God I" he called, "they're taking her off I"

" Help 1 help ! " cried Gering, and they pushed
on. The two rufilans were running hard, but it
had been an unequal race at the best, and
Jessica 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 bea:ing 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 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
liouse and the town. I will get on the trail
again if I can."

Gering started away. In this strange excite*

THE KIDNAl'riNG

ment 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 Buck-
law, 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 Gwynn 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 trees upon the bank. He had sent
Radisson on . Head to warn his boat's crew.

He saw Iberville as soon as Iberville saw
him. He knew that the town would be roused

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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by this time and the governor on fire Tor revenge.
But there was nothing for it but fight. 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 Frenchman's thrust.
Instantly he saw that his opposite was a swords-
man, so he let the girl slip to the ground, and
suddenly closing with Iberville, lunged desper-
ately 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 to-
gether instantly, lunged, and took his man in
the flesh of his upper sword arm. Iberville was
bleeding from the wound in iiis 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 that he could kill
this champion and carry off the girl. IVIoreover,

1 rl

THE KIDNAPPING

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
madness, 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 grazed 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

at Iberville, and he slung his musket shoulder-
wards and fired at the retreating figure. It was
a chance shot, for the light was bad and Buck-
law was already indistinct.

Now the man dropped on his knee and felt
Iberville's heart. " Alive 1" he said. "Alive,
thank the mother of God 1 Mon brave I It is
ever the same — the great father, the great son 1 "

As he withdrew his hand it brushed against
the slipper. He took it out, glanced at it, and
turned to the cloaked figure. He undid the
cloak and saw Jessica's pale face. He shook
his head. " Always the same," he said, " always
the same : for a king, for a friend, for a woman I
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'selie — ma'm'selle I " 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

lid.
of

THE KIDNAPPING

put the drinking-horn again to her h'ps. She
shuddered and took a sip, and then invigor-
ated, suddenly drew away from him. " There,
there," he said ; " it is all right. 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 Per^ot ! " he cried. " Oh,
good — good," he added softly. Then with sudden
anxiety — " Where is she ? Where is she ? "

" I am safe, monsieur," Jessica said 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, monsieur."

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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

" If you meaii 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, but Penot said in his broken English,
"No, parclon. Not so. The cloak Id-bas 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 foresaw the little comedy, which he could
enjoy even in such painful circumstances.

" It must have dropped off," said Jessica,
blushing. " But 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 slipper, and put it on.

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

Sudd-^nly a look of pain crossed her face.

• tf^l \.

THE KIDNAPPING

** 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 how Gering was rousing the town. Then
he insisted upon getting on his feet, that they
might make their way to the governor's house.
Staunchly 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 be
there. A band of coiircurs du bois, bound for
Quebec, had come upon old Le Moyne and him-
self in the woods. Le Moyne had gone on with
these men, while Perrot pushed on to New York,
arriving at the very moment of the kidnapping.
He heard the cry and made towards it. H
had met Gering, and the rest they knew.

Certain things did not happen. The governor
of New York did not at once engage in n
expedition to the Spaniards' country. A t 1 e
pursuit was made, but Bucklaw went uncaptured.
Iberville and Gering did not make a third

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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attempt to fight ; Perrot prevented that. Iber-
ville 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 ; that Gering and he, in spite of outward
courtesy, were still enemies; for Gering could not
forget that, in the rescue of Jessica, Iberville had
dene the work while he merely played the crier.

" We shall meet again, monsieur," said Iber-
ville at last ; " at least, I hope so."

" I shall be glad," answered Gering mechani-
cally.

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

dpoclj iljt ^tcani

CHAPTER VII

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

MONTREAL and Quebec, dear !x^ the
fortunes of such men as Iberville,
were as 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 tem-
perament 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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

The room was not ornamented, save by a
crucifix, a pleasant pencil -drawing 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
indeed, 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 abstrart<^d

•k^s^-"^^

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

look, and the countenance had the gravity of a
priest h'ghted by a cheerful soul within. It
had been said of Dollier de Casson that once,
attacked by two renegade Frenchmen, 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. Ani it was
also declared by the romantic that the man with
the broken back recovered, while he with the
shattered leg, recovering also, found that his
foot, pointing backward, " made a fool of his
nose."

The Abb^ de Casson's life had one affection,
which had taken the place of others, now almost
lost in the distance of youth, absence, and in-
difference. For France lay far from Montreal,
and the priest-musician was infinitely farther
off: the miles which the Church measures be-
tween the priest and his lay boyhood are not
easily reckoned. But such as Dollier de Casson
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.

1 4

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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This night he was crowding into the nmusic
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 ! "

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, and put it on the
table, shaking his head musingly.

" He will wish to see it, maybe to hear it," he
said half aloud.

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 crunching of moccasined feet upon the

a j:|: ,-ii:i

i:,;.i .«i:

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

crisp snow, then a sli^^ht tap at the outer door,
and immediately it was opened. A stalwart
young man stepped inside. He looked round,
pleased, astonished, and glanced at the violin,
then meaningly towards the nearly closed door
of the other room. After which he pulled off his
gloves, threw his cap down, and with a signifi-
cant 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 in-
scrutable: the mouth with a trick of smiling,
the eyes fearless, convincing, but having at the
same time a look behind this — an alert, 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 his cheek to the instrument — almost

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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
impossible softness he drew the bow across the
strings, getting 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. The music deepened also, and, as the
priest opened the door, swept against him like
a wind so warm that a moisture came to his eyes.

" Iberville I '* he said, in a glad voice.
'* Pierre 1 "

The violin was d wn on the instant. " My
dear abb^ 1 " he cried. And then the two em-
braced.

"How do you like my entrance?" said the
young man. " But I had to provide my own

:i«>

FRIKNDS IN COUNCIL

music!" He laughed, and ran his hands affec-
tionately down the arms of the priest

" I had been playing the same old chan-
sonette " —

"With your original variations?"

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

" Yes, yes, abb^, 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 forgetting the good old way of fight-
ing by land, at which he once served his prentice
time — with your blessing, my old tutor, my good
fighting abb^ ! Do you remember when we
stopped those Dutchmen on the Richelieu, and
you " —

The pi'iest interrupted with a laugh. "But,
my dear Iberville " —

"It was 'Pierre' a minute gone; 'twill be
'Monsieur 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

It, -

\'i Ml

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 pupil 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, — " which 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 Cassoii 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 the spinning-wheel,
The hawk and the lady fair,
And sailed away'—

But the song is old and so is the story, abb^ ;
so here's the brief note of it. After years of
play and work, — play in France and stout work

i M

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

in the Spaniards' country, — he was shipped
away to —

* Those battled heights, Quebec heights, our own heights,
The citadel our golden lily bears.
And Frontenac * —

But I 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 quarrelling were " —

"Frontenac will return — there is no other
way ! " interposed de Casson.

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

iir<

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

t'<

few hours with his father and his brothers, Bien*
ville, Longueil, Maricouft, and Sainte-H^l^ne,
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 aves for the prodigal."

He 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
I have yet the Maggini you gave me. It was ot
the things for remembering. If we can't be
loyal to our first loves, why to anything ? "

" Even so, Pierre ; but few at your age arrive
at 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 them till all be done."

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

** There is such a thing as a noble hate."

" How every inch of you is man I " answered

.M:il!-

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FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

the other, clasping the priest's arms. Then he
added, ** Ahb6, you know what I long to hear.
You have been to New York twice ; you were
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 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 I"

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

" ' O the young seigneur I O the young seigneur I
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 maid was the way he knew ;
O the young seigneur ? O the young seigneur 1 ' "

** Shall we speak freely before him ? " said the
priest.

** As freely as you will. Perrot is true. He
was with me too at the beginning."

At that moment there came a knock, and in

THE TRAIL OF THE. SWORD

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an instant the coureur du bois had caught the
hands of the young man, and was laughing up
in his fdce.

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

" Well, well, little man, I'll wager neither the
great abb^ 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 1" 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
nothing to a man like the way he has come in
the world."

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

** Ah I " responded Perrot, " I remember, abb^,
when we were at the Portneuf you made some
verses of that — eh I eh I but they were good I "

" No fitter time," said Iberville ; " come, abb4
the verses I"

" No, no ; another day," answered the priest

, -^ "^

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

It was an interesting scene. Perrot, short,
broad, swarthy, dressed in rude buckskin gaudily
ornamented, bandoleer and belt garnished with
silver, — a recent gift of some grateful merchant,
— standing between the powerful black-robed
priest and this gallant sailor-soldier, richly
dressed in fine skins and furs, 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 miseries 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. Perrot knew certain traits
of Iberville of which De Casson was ignorant,
and the abb^ knew many depths which Perrot
never even vaguely plumbed. And yet all could
meet and be free in speech, as though each
read the other thoroughly.

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

" Let us eat as we talk," urged the abbd

I'hey all* sat and were soon eating and drink-
ing with great relish.

Il)

''•'I i

loo THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Presently the abbd began —

" Of my first journey you know by the letter
I sent you : how I found that Mademoiselle
Leveret was gone to England with her father.
That 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 abb^ looked up surprised. "From my
letter?"

" 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' booty, 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
first. Afterwards in a parley I saw him, and we
exchanged — compliments. The sordid gentle-
man thought I was fretting about the booty.
6ood God, what are some thousand • pistoles to
the blood of one honest friend I "

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FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

lOI

** And In your mind another leaven worked,"
ventured the priest.

•' Another leaven, as you say * responded Iber-
ville. " So, for your story, abbd**

** Of the first journey there is nothing more to
tell, save that the English governor said you
were as brave a gentleman as ever played am-
bassador, — 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 Radisson," interjected Perrot " And
by and by IVe things to say of him."

The abb^ 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 me a little sharply.
*You are,' said he, 'a friend of Monsieur

A .j»..- ^^v;:' f >,;-^v ,

I09

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

ill)'

I'll

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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, with a chuckle, broke in: *'I
chanced that way, and I had a wish to see
what was for seeing ; for here was our good
abb6 alone among the wolves, and there were
Radisson and the immortal 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. I hear that he
has been in France and elsewhere.*"

Here the abb^ paused, smiling as if in
retr^ospect, and kept looking into the fire and
turning about in his hand his cassock-cord.

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

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

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FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

103

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

The abb^ paused, and smiled over at Iber-
ville.

"You see,** he said, "her trust was in your
friend, not in my office. Well, presently she
added } * I know that Monsieur Iberville and
Mr. Gering, for a foolish quarrel of years ago,
still are cherished foes. I wish your help to
make them both happier ; for no man can be
happy and hate.* And I gave my word to
do so.**

Here Perrot chuckled to himself and inter-
jected softly, " Man Dieu I she could make a
man say anything at all. I would have sworn
to her that while T lived I never should fight.
Eh, that's so!**

^AllonsV* said Iberville impatiently, yet
grasping the arm of the woodsman kindly.

The abb^ once more went on : " When she
had ended questioning I said to her, * And what

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104 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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, * I 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 eye, 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 forgotten.* "

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,

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FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

loS'

monsieur, when she took it from your doublet ;
but it was on a slipper then."

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

" I learned," answered the abb^ " that Mon-
sieur 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 more: Radisson was with Bucklaw at the
kidnapping. I had the pleasure to kill a
fellow of Bucklaw, and he told me that before
he died. He also told how Bucklaw went with
Radisson to the Spaniards' country treasure-
hunting. Ah! there are many fools in the
world. They did not get the treasure. They

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

quarrelled, and Radisson went to the far north,
Bucklaw to the far south. The treasure is
where it was. E/i bie?i ! Such is the way of
asses."

Iberville was about to speak.

"But wait," said Perrot, with a slow, tan-
talising smile ; " it is not wise to hurry. I have
a mind to know ; so while 1 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 Michili-
mackinac, out to the Mississippi. Yes. Well,
what did I find in Boston? Pestel 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 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

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FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

107

been so many fools on that trail. The gover-
nor of New York was a fool when Bucklaw
played his game ; he would have been a greater
if he had gone with Bucklaw."

Here Iberville would have spoken, but Perrot
waved his hand. "Z?^ grace, a minute only.
Monsieur Gering, the brave English lieutenant,
is at Hudson's Bay, and next summer he will
go with the great William Phips — Tonnerre^
what a name — William Phips I 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 her cheek came like a peach-blossom. *A
very good morning, ma'm'selle,' said I, in English.

io8

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

i,ii

She smiled and said the same. *And youi
master, where is he?' she asked with a fine
smile. 'My friend Monsieur Iberville?' I said;
* ah 1 he will be in Quebec soon.' Then I told
her of the abb^, 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 cheerful woodsman into the
chief of bushrangers. Iberville read the look,
and presently said :

** Perrot, men have 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 " —

He paused, rose, walked up and down the
room, caught his moustache between his teeth

t; •-

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

109

once or twice, and seemed buried in thought.
Once or twice he was about to speak, but
changed his mind. He was calculating 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 presently, still absorbed,
turned to the. table. He saw the violin, 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 abb^ 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 stream creeps softly
through a weir, and after many wanderings
broadens suddenly into a great stream. He

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1 10 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

had found his theme. Its effect was striking.
Through Iberville's mind there ran a hundred
incidents of his life, one chasing upon the other
without sequence — phantasmagoria out of the
scene-house of memory :

The light upon the arms of Do Tracy's soldiers
when they marched up Mountain Street many
years before — The frozen figure of a man stand-
ing 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 lonely forest, in the white

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL

III

coverlet of winter, through which sounded now
and then the boom-boom of a bursting tree — A few
score men upon a desolate northern track, silent,
desperate, courageous ; a forlorn hope on the
edge of the Arctic circle, with the joy of con-
quest in their bones, and at their thighs the
swords of men.

These are a few of the pictures, but the last
of 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, and presently caught
Perrot by the shoulder and said, " We will do
it, Perrot ! "

Perrot got to his feet. He understood. He

nodded and seized Iberville's hand. " Bravo I

There was nothing else to do," he replied.

De Casson lowered his violin. "What do
<

you intend ? " he asked gravely.

Iberville took his great hand and pressed it
"To do what you will commend, abb^: at

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112 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Hudson's Bay to win back forts the English
have taken, and get those they have built."

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

"Abb6, that is between me and my con-
science. I go for my king and country against
our foes."

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

"Not I to lead — that involves me." Iber-
ville's 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-H^l^ne 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
Iberville, with a winning smile, ran an arm over
his shoulder and added," We cannot go without
you, DolHer."

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

if!

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■!Wii,!!',; ;

CHAPTER VIII

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS, DAKKLY

WHEN King Louis and King James called
for peace, they could not know that
it was as little possible to their two colonies as
between rival buccaneers. New France was
full of bold spirits who loved conquest for
conquest's sake. Besides, in this case there
was a force at work, generally unknown, but as
powerful as the convincing influence of an army.
Behind the worst and the best acts of Charles
II. was a woman. 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 England, and New
York, was a woman.

We saw her when she was but a child — the
centre of singular events. Years had passed.

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114 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Not one of those events had gone for nothing ;
each was bearing fruit aft.'^r its kind.

She is sitting alone in a room of a large
unhandsome house, facing on Boston har-
bour. It is evening. The room itself is of
dark wood, and evening has throwq it into
gloom. Yet somehow the girl's face has a
light of its own. She is turned fair towards 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 the west recedes
and night creeps in from the ocean. She
watches the waves and the mist till all is mist
without ; a scene which she 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."

'11

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY 115

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.

" What is your answer, Jessica ? " he asks.

** I will marry him when he comes back."

** Thank God 1 " 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 we 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 Gcring?"

" I suppose not," is her reply, but the tone is
enigmatical.

• ••«••

While this scene is on, another appears in
Cheapside, 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

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Ii6 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

been reminded with more exactness than kind-
ness that he liad cost King Charles a ship,
scores of men, and thousands of pounds, in a
fruitless search for buried treasure in liispaniola.
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 Duke of Albemarle
and other distinguished gentlemen. They were
seemingly convinced, but withheld their answer
till the following morning.

But William Phips, stubborn adventurer,
destined to receive all sorts of honours in his
time, has no intention 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 success. He
has gone so far as to purchase a ship, called the
Bridgwater Merchant from an alderman in
London, though he has not a hundred guineas
at his disposal. 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
RosCt two years ago."

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY 117

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

Satanic humour plays in tne stranger's eyes
as 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? I'll have you in yon prison
for an unhung rascal 1 "

" Ah ! you are a great man,*' is the unmoved
reply. "I knew you'd feel that way. But if
you'll listen for five minutes, down here at the
Bull-and-Daisy, there shall be peace between us.*'

An hour later, Phips, following Bucklaw's
instructions, is tracing on a map the true
location of the lost galleon's treasure.

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

" We are adventurers."

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 look*

xi8

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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I '

^€

ingout 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
hummocks, 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 stretching 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 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 arms
for warmth; the smack of the leather in the
clear air like the report of a gun. Presently,
stopping his exercise, he says —

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AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY 119

" 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 captured by the French and
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 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 of King Charles. I will tell
you something more. Mademoiselle Leveret's" —

"What do you know of Mademoiselle
Leveret?"

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

130

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

15 'Si;..-:\

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r

** How know you that ? "

** I have ears. You have promised to go with
Phips. Isn't that 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,
outlaws like yourself 1"

** Pardon! gentlemen, monsieur; noble out-
laws. What is it that once or twice they have
quarrelled with the governor, and because they
would not yield have been proclaimed ? Nothing.
Proclaimed yesterday, to-day at Court No,
na 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

!i^,j-t*

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY 121

the height from which he fell. "He will find
you, monsieur," he repeats. " When Le Moyne
is the hunter he never will kennel till the end.
Besides, there is the lady 1 **

« Silence I "

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

The Englishman remembers that this scoun--
drel 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, while the
White Weaver, at the summit of the world, is
shuttling these lives into the woof of battle,
murder, and sudden death.

On the shore of the La Flanta River a man
lies looking into the sunset. So sweet, so
beautiful is the landscape — the deep foliage

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 Spatiiard. He thought he had
killed all, but I lived. He also was killed.
His murderer's name was Bucklaw — an English
pirate. He has the secret Once he came
with a ship to find, but there was trouble and
he did not go on. An Englishman also came
with the king's ship, but he did not 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

■?''

AS SEEN THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY 123

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 again. " 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 bis 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 church, as the mass is slowly

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

(.>

umu

' !&.W

chanted at the altar. AH of them are armed.
By the flare of the torches and the 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 bandoleer.

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,
handsome priest, whose face, as it bends over
Iberville, suddenly flushes with feeling. Pre-
sently 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, abbd I '*

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
woodsmen like the coureurs du bois 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 the native
Canadian noblesse, who, like the nobles of
France, forbidden to become merchants, became
adventurers with the coureurs du bois^ who were
ever with them in spirit more than with the
merchant. The peasant prefers the gentleman
to the bourgeois as his companion. Many a
coureur du bois 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!.

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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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 trader and the noble.
But he was a trader by profession 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 who 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. Ad-
venturers, 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 grently the list of his Canadian
noblesse. It struck a blow at the men who,
in one of the letters which the grim Frontenac
sent to Versailles not long before his death,

TO THE PORCH OF THE WORLD 127

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
couretirs du bois — chieftains by courtesy — when
they were proclaimed. And it was like Iberville,
that, then only a lad, he came in from the woods,
went to his father, and astonished him by asking
for his blessing. Then he started for Quebec, and
arriving 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 admitted. His excellency
greeted his young visitor courteously, yet with
hauteur.

"You bring strange comrades to visit your
governor, Monsieur Iberville," he said.

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128 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

"Comrades in peace, your excellency, com
rades in war."

«* What war?"

"The king makes war against the coureurs du
dots. 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 ^/riddles. Perrot and Du Lhut are
good friends of the king. They have helped
your excellency with the Indians a hundred
times. Their men have been a little royster-
ing, but that's 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 .ayself up. If you shoot Perrot or
Du Lhut you will have to shoot me ; and, if you
carry on the matter, your excellency will not
have enough gentlemen to play Tartuffe!*

This last remark referred to a quarrel which
Frontenac had had with the bishop, who in-
veighed 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 placed himself.

:r\-\m-

TO THE PORCH OF THE WORLD 129

With a lesser man thLti Frontenac it might
have ended badly But himself, courtier as he
was, had ever used heroical methods, and ap-
preciated 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 the advantage of me in this, I
shall take care you pay the bill. We have had
enough of outlawry. You shall fight 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 Englishman as anyone could
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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 her country. But was it
cast after all ?

Immediately 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 influencea by memory of
Iberville we may guess, but in what fashion who
can say ? It is not in mortal man to resolve the
fancies of a woman, 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 be 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

TO THE PORCH OF THE WORLD 131

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 together, and he understood her,
perhaps, as did no one else, save her father ;
though he never made good use of his know-
ledge, 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 character, 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 with-
out warning ; and with a touch of her old
demureness and gaiety, 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

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132

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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.

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CHAPTER X

QUI VIVE I

FROM Land's End to John o' Groafs 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 temper 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,

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

or portaged here and there for miles, the eager
sun of spring above with scarcely a cloud to
trail behind him. At last the river cleared, and
for leagues they travelled to the north-west, and
came c*c last to 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 thu 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 stretching 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, menac-
ing, 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 v/hen all was changed, and a soft
silver mist hung over the "great water," like

QUI VIVE I

135

dissolving dew, through which the sunlight
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 paddles noiselessly cleaving the
water with the precision 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. On either side was
that soft plumbless diffusion, and ahead the
secret of untravelled wilds and the fortunes of
war.

As if by common instinct, all gossip ceased
soon after they left the shore, and, cheerful 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, h?^rdy, occasionally bloody.

136 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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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, giving them a mysterious look.
The colours of their canoes and clothes were
softened by the dim air and long 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,

QUI VIVE

»37

somewhat religious, mood into which they had
been cast. As Iberville, with Sainte - H^l^ne
and Perrot, sat watching the canoes that fol-
lowed, with voyageurs erect in bow and stern, a
voice in the next canoe, with a half-chanting
inodulation, began a song of the wild - life.
Voice after voice slowly took it up, until it ran
along the whole procession. A verse was sung,
then a chorus altogether, then a refrain of one
verse which was sung by each boat in succes-
sion 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 —

" Quivivet
Who is it cries in the dawn-
Cries when the stars go down?
Who is it comes through the mist —
The mist that is fine like lawn,
The mist like an angel's gown?
Who is it comes in the dawn?
Qui vivel Qui vivel in the dawn.

*• Qui vive t
Who is it passeth us by,
Still in the dawn and the mist?
Tall seigneur of the dawn :

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138 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

A two-edged sword at his thigh,
A shield of gold at his wrist :
Who is it hurrieth by?
Quivive/ Quivivei 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 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 knows what he
has sacrificed. For it is in the order of things
that the great man shall be first the maker
oi 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

('ii'T. '±J.ska.

QUI VIVE I 139

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 1 " !• e 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 un-
popular of truths, that a woman's love is more
a matter of mastery and possession than instinct,
two men being of comparatively equal merit
and sincerity.

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

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140

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

in him. He stood motionless for a long time as
the song went on —

** Qui vive t
Who saileth into the morn,
Out of the wind of the dawn?—
* Follow, oh, fol w me on ! * ^

Calleth a distant horn.
He is here — he is there — he is gone,
Tall seigneur of the dawn I

Qui vive t 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, abb^" 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 1 " His finger
touched his doublet

** She is English, my Pierre."

" She is what God made her."

** She may be sworn to the man."

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QUI VIVE! 141

Iberville started, thcii shook his head incred-
ulously. " 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 I"

*' You saw her then only for a few days — and
she was so young 1 "

" What are days or years ? Things lie deep
in us till some great moment, and then they
spring into life and are ours for ever. When I
kissed King Louis' hand I knew that I loved
my king; when De Montespan'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.
Th'=ire is no way but this, Dollier. He is the
enemy of my king, and he is greatly in my debt.
Remember the Spaniards' country ! "

He laid a hand upon his sword. The face
of the priest was calm and grave, but in his eyes

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142

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

was a deep fire. At heart he was a soldier, a
loyalist, a gentleman 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! 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 of their challenge —

•* Qui vive! Qui vivtf in the dawn.**

The paddles stilled in the water and a thrill
ran through the line of voyageurs, — even Iber-
ville 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 figures in bow and stem, using paddles.
They wore long cloaks, and feathers waved from
their heads. In the centre of the canoe was
what seemed a body under a pall, at its head

QUI VIVEl 143

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, not even
Iberville, could guess, though he thought it a
pilgk image of burial, such as was sometimes
made by distinguished members of Indian
tribes. Or it may have been — which is likely
— 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 Abb^ de Casson been so dis-
posed, 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 thev had left Ahead of them

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

was another shore, and they reached this at
last. Where the mysterious canoe had 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 untravelled 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 own
ambitious youth, and had consented, persuading
De Troyes that the lad was worth encourage-
ment. His canoe was not far behind when the
other ran on the 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

\,-

QUI VIVE I

I4S

rock. It was scraggy, and though it tore and
bruised him he cluntj to it

Iberville threw off his doublet, and prepared
to spring as his boat came down. But another
had made ready. It was the abb^, 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. The abb^ looked arc .nd 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
Iberville tossed here and there but with impos-
sible strength and good fortune reach the lad.
The two grasped each other and then struck
out for the high shore. De Casson seemed to
know what would happen. He altered his
course, and, making for the shore also at a point
below, reached it He saw with a kind of

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THE TFAIL OF THE SWORD

despair that it wj'.c steep and had no trees ;
yet his keen eyes also saw, not far below, the
dwarfed boie 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 his thoughts were those
of a warrior then. He almost enjoyed the
danger for himself: his fear was for Iberville and
for the motherless boy.

He had guessed and hoped aright Iberville,
supporting the now senseless bc»y, 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 efibrt threw himself
and the lad towards it The priest also fought
upwards to them and caught them as they came,
haviiii;^ 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

! ,:■:•!■

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QUI VIVE!

147

apprehensive cries of their friends there suc-
ceeded calls of delight, for De Casson had seized
the juttirg bole arid 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
Parrot, Sainte-Hdl6ne, and others were running
to the rescue. They arrived just in 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 abb^
had gone up — a stout strain on the rope. For-
tunately there were clefts and fissures in the
wall, which could be used in the ascent. De
Casson 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, *

148 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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

" Self-abasing always, dear a.hh6 ; you saved
us both. By heaven, but the king lost a great
man m you I "

" Hush ! Mere brawn, Pierre ! . . . . By the
blessing of God," he added quickly.

"AM

CHAPTER XI

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 songs v/ith 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

before seen. The canoes were filled with men
— Indians, it would seem, by the tall feathers
lifting from their heads. A moment before
there had been nothing. The sudden appear-
ance was even 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 — presumably
not far away — was a large band of Indians,
possibly hostile; their own numbers were
about fourscore. There was the chance that
the Indians were following or intercepting
them. Yet, since 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 Lab-
rador, to the west were the desolate plains
and hills, stretching to the valley of the Sas-
katchewan.

Practically in command, Iberville advised
watchfulness and preparation for attack. Pre-
sently the mirage faded away as suddenly as

WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLE 151

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 ot
a small river, travelling northward. The 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 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 fire-
arms, and, as could be seen, they were aston-
ished at the look of the little band, which, at
the command of De Troyes, who with Iber-
ville 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

and the martial manner of the little band—
who had donned gay trappings, it being Iber-
ville'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 some-
thing 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. 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 copper. The chiei was
a stalwart savage with a cruel eye, out the
most striking figure of all — either French or

WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLE 153

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 challenge 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 thcie
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 De Casson
shared the young man's feeling, though chasten-
ing 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 that they might have
tough work.

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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**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 wo'ild
fight in the open, were, in spite of great
opposing numbers, in warrior mood. Pre-
sently all the canoes were got to land, and
without any hostile sign 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 tne
mirage. They had followed the Frenchmen,
had gone parallel with them for scores of
miles, and had at last at this strategic point
waylaid them.

ivil !

'*i:-4

■■: :-r \.

WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLE 155

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 aAvay, on either side, the
Indian councillors.

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

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 alighted on the large form of De
Casson, who calmly watched him. Iber-
ville saw this look and could not help but
laugh, though the matter was serious. He

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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pictured the good abbd fighting for the band.
At this the champion began to beat his breast
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 offered 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 champion, and
then he became silent From the Indians rose
one long cry of satisfaction, and then they too
stilled ^he 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 abb^ 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:

■;s; !

WITH THE STRANGE PEOPLE 157

a gentleman 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 not There was
only one other man in Canada who 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 proportion. 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 boyhood
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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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proud to give his enemy one moment of
athletic trifling, ran in on him. For a time
they were locked, straining terribly, 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
dumbfounded that for a moment no one stirred,
and Iberville went back and quietly put on
his clothes. But 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 Iberville
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 achieve-
ment had conquered these savages, who, after
all, loved such deeds, though at the hand of
an enemy. And now the whole scene was
changed. The French courteously but firmly

ii '*'

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WITM THE STRANGE PEOPLE 159

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 this strange tribe but would
have followed him anywhere. 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,

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

shot a caribou, they stood in proper awe. With
mutual friendliness they parted. Two weeks
later, after great trials, the band emerged on
the shores of Hudson's Bay almost without
baggage, find starving.

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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, hungry, and chilled.
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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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Iberville's first glance at the bay and the fort
brought disappointment. No vessel lay in the
harbour, therefore it was probable Gering was
not there. But there were other forts, and this
one must be taken meanwhile. The plans were
quickly made. Iberville advised a double attack :
an improvised battering-ram at the great gate,
and a party to climb the stockade wall at another
quarter. This climbing-party he would himself
lead, accompanied by his brother Sainte-Hd^ne,
Perrot, and a handful of agile 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 the sky by some strange trick of
atmosphere had taken on a green hue, against
which everything 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

■,l ': i:

OUT OF TH •: NET

163

some lonely prison-house, where 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.

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

Iberville laughed softly. " If we meet, may
my mind be his, ahh6 ? But he is not here —
there is no vessel, you see I 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, behind which was one
man's personal enmity, a merchant 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 the 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 gpirrison
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 I'ort Albany,
ninety miles to the north and v/est. Iberville
determined to go to Fort Rupert, and with a
few followers, embarking in canoes, assembled
before it two nights after. A vessel was in the
harbour, and his delight was keen. He divided
his men, sending Perrot to take the font, while
himself with a small party moved to the attack

OUT OF THE NET

««S

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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 ; enter-
taining his guest at supper, and toasting him
in some excellent wine got in Hispaniola. 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

The Frenchmen pushed out gently from the
shore, paddled noiselessly over to the ship's side,
and clambered 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,
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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

down. Meanwhile Iberville, hot for mischief,
stamped upon the deck. Immediately a number
of armed men came bundling up the hatch-
way. Among these appeared Gering and the
governor, who thrust themselves forward 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 Casson's hand diverted the blow.
It caught the shoulder of a man at Gering's
side.

" 'Tis Monsieur Gering 1 *' said the priest

" 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?"

OUT OF THE NET

167

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

" Damnation ! " cried Gering, and his eyes
hungered 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 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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,"
answered Ibervill qu' /, and sent th*. mes-
senger away.

At that moment Fcwot i rhed his arm, and
pointed to a man whose shoulder was being
bandaged. It was Radisson, who had caught
Iberville's sword when the abb^ diverted it.

"By the mass I" said Iberville; "the gift ol
the saints."

He pricked Radisson with the point of his
sword. Well, monsieur rene "vde, 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."

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

"At sunset, remember. You will see to it,
Perrot," he added.

"Pardon me, monsieur," said the governor,

OUT OF THE NET

169

*'This is an offic^^r of our company, duly
irrendered."

" Monsieur will know thif man is a traitor,
.i.nd hat I have lon^-standing orders to kill
him wherever found.-.— What has monsieur to
say for him ? " Iberville 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 ordered their disposition, and then,

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170 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 Gering, 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. Then, after eating, he
drew his cloak over him in the cabin and fell
asleep.

Near daybreak a man came swimming along

til

OUT OF THE NET

171

the side of the ship to the small port-hole of
a cabin. He paused before it, took from his
pocket a nail, and threw it within. There was
no response, and he 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
port -hole. He had only one nail left; he
threw it in, and Gering's face appeared.

" Hush, monsieur!" Radisson 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 Radisson
came up again. Gering understood ; having
heard the footsteps.

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

" I have only the one," responded Radisson,

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

not unselfish enough to give it up. His chief
idea, after all, was to put Gering under obliga-
tion 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.

Gering tried the key, but it would not turn
easily and he took it out again. Rubbing
away the rust, he 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, almost upon the
guard, who was sound asleep. Looking 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

■!■

OUT OF THE NET

J73

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up. Thrusting out his head he looked about
him, and he 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. 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, escaped the challenge of having slept
at his post ; so he began resolutely to pace the
deck. Gering watched him closely, and moved
deliberately to the stern. In doing so he
suddenly came upon a body. He stopped and
turned round, It aning against the bulwarks as
before. This time the watch came within
twenty feet of him, saluted and retired.

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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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 killing 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. Gering flashed
a glance at him again, — his back was tc 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 Radis-
son was beside him.

" 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 his 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;

'i;:!'!!'

OUT OF THE NET 175

their situation was desperate even yet. Radis-
son's ingenuity was not quite enough, so Gering
solved the problem : there were the Frenchmen'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 iiad weapons of a
kind — Radisson a knife, and Gering the bar ot
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 thern. As it chanced,
the watch, suffering from the cold night air,
had gone into the \jush 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.

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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They reached Fort Albany and warned it
Having thus done his duty towards the
Hudson's Bay Company, and knowing 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 French-
men had taken northward.

A couple of hours after Gering had thrown
his hat and cloak into the blood of the cotireur
du boisy and slid down the anchor-chain, Iberville
knew that his quarry was flown. The watch had
thought that Iberville had gone below, and he
had 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; wild-fowl came fluttering, voiceless, past ;
night was still drenched in sleep. Suddenly he
saw the dead body, and his boots dabbled in
wet!

In all that concerned the honour of the arms
of France and the conquest of the three forts,

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OUT OF THE NET

177

^^^

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
De Casson ; "but you have done enough for
the king. Let your own cause come later."

" And it will come, abb^" he answered, with
anger. " His account grows ; we must settle
all one day. And Radisson shall swing or I
am no soldier — sol"

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CHAPTER XUl

"AS WATER UNTO WINE"

THREE months afterwards George Gering
was joyfully preparing to take two
voyages. Perhaps, indeed, 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 re-
ceived 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 wa^ no angrier man in all America than

178

"AS WATER UNTO WINE"

179

man

Colonel Ricliard 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 await-
ing her marriage with Gering, whom, since he
had lost most traces of Puritanism, he * liked.
He had long suspected the girl's interest in
Iberville ; if he had known 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 filibustiering seigneur, a Catholic, the
enemy of the British colonies, whose fellow-
countrymen incited 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
he should sink and carry his daughter with
him. Jessica was the apple of his eye ; for her
hv^ would have borne all sorts of trials ; but 1 e
could not bear to see her calltd on to bear
them. Like most people out of the heyday of

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their own 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 upon an event
which might well hold her delighted memory:
distance, difference of race, language, and life,
all surrounded Iberville with an engaging fas-
cination. Besides, what woman could forget a
man who gave her escape from a fate such as
Bucklaw had prepared for her? But she saw the
hopelessness of the thing, everything was steadily
acting in Gering 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
greiater tnan she iiad ever known. Like a good
British maid, she was angry at the defeat of the
Britisl she was indignant at her lover's failure
and ^ oud of his brave escape, and she would
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Iberville. But it was no use; she was ill-
content while her father and others called him
buccaneer and filibustier, 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 —
"Genius and pith, upon my soul!" he said
stoutly ; " and if he comes this way he shall
have a right hearty welcome, though he come
to fight"

In the first excitement of Gering's et.irn,
sorry for his sufferings and for his n:jured
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 emotions, and
cannot therefore be sure of herself But when
it was done there came reaction to Jessica. In

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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the solitude of her own room — the room above
the hallway, from which she had gone to
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
po^'-'ble 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 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 sprightli-
ness 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.

.1 ':•

"AS WATER UNTO WINE"

183

" 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 within his arm. " I
am so very cheerful I need to shower the sur-
plus." 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 on'y kept looking at him with a kind of
inward smiling. Presently, as if he had sud-
denly lighted upon a piece of news for the
difficulty, he said, " Radisson has come."

" Radisson I " 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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there, or to Boston, until word was given him ;
for while he felt bound to let the scoundrel go
with him to the Spaniards* country, it was not
to be forgotten that the fellow had been with
Bucklaw. But Radisson had no scruples when
Gering was gone, though the proscription had
never been withdrawn.

"We will have to give him freedom, coun-
cillor, 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 I Why
— why ? Faith, he helped your lover from the
clutches of the French coxcomb.'*

" Indeed," she answered, "such a villain helps
but for absurd benefits. Mr. Gering might have
stayed 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

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"AS WATER UNTO WINE"

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as ever, councillor. What an old bear am 1 1
When I called him coxcomb, 'twas as an
Englishman hating a Frenchman, who gave our
tongues to gall — a handful of posts gone, a
ship passed to the spoiler, the governor of the
Company a prisoner, and our young commander'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 French-
men, should you not ? "

" Merciless witch I 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 lovingly ? '*

" Surely ; there is peace, is there not ? Has
not the king, because of his love for Louis,
commanded all goodwill between us and
Canada ? "

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that he has ! how can we live at peace with
buccaneers ? **

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 re-
spects to me.**

He handed the note to her. It said that
Iberville had brought prisoners whom he was
willing to exchange 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 reckless, coui-age. The humour of it
was not lost on Jessica, 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
sweetheart** ^ >

Two hours afterwards, Iberville came up the

! ■• •\,

"AS WATER UNTO WINE"

187

Street with Sainte - H^l^ne, De Casson, and
Perrot, — De Troyes had gone to Quebec, —
courteously accompanied by Morris and ati
officer of the New York Militia. There was
no enmity shown the Frenchmen, for man)'
remembered what had once made Iberville
popular in New York. Indeed, Iberville, whose
memory 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 soldierliness, 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 reputation, and at last asked him to
dine, saying that Mistress 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 had her lover prisoner. But
these things are to be endured. Besides, you
and Mr. Gering seem as easily enemies as other
men are friends.'*

f^ <

i88 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Iberville was amazed. So, Jessica and Gering
were affianced ! And the buckle she had sent
him he wore now in the folds of his lace 1 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 Mon-
sieur Gering, your excellency, we are as easily
enemies as he and Radisson are comrades-in-

arms.

"Which is harshly put, monsieur. When 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
is too generous with each other, your excel-
lency," answered Iberville lightly.

This frankness was pleasing, and soon the
governor 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 offered him her hand
with a quiet smile.

i«t' »! 1

"AS WATER UNTO WINE"

189

** 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 not come to me, I take it, as the conqueror
of Englishmen."

"I come to you," he answered, "as Pierre
le Moyne of Iberville, who had once the honour
to do you slight service. I have nev.T tried to
forget that, because by it I hoped I might be
remembered — an accident of price to 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

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same cause/' he answered, and he looked boldly,
earnestly, into her eyes.

She turned her head away. **You have all
your old recklessness," she answered. Then her
eyes softened, and, " All your old courage," she
added. ^

** 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 sorrow. A man like Iberville
was not to be counted lightly ; for every word
he sowed, he would reap a harvest of some kind.

He came close to her, and looked as though
he would read her through and through. " 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 "— . |v: v

"Oh, hush! — hush!" she whispered Her

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•*A9 WATER UNTO WINE"

191

face became pale, and her eyes had a painful
brightness. ** You must not answer. I had no
right to ask. Oh, monsieur I " 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
enemy of him who stands between you and me.
For see : from the hour that 1 met you I knew
that some day, even as now, I should tell you
that — I love you — indeed, 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. Voild!'* he added,
hastily catching her silver buckle from his
bosom. " This that you sent me, look where I
have kept it — on my heart 1"

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 '

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193

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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an affianced wife." An appealing smile snone
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 I *' 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. " You remember," she said, with a touch
of her old gaiety, and with an inimitable grace,
" 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 de-
termining to stay in the port of New York and
to carry her off as his wife ; but, unlike Buck-
law, with her consent

At that moment the governor returned, and
Iberville's question was never answered. Nor
did he dine at Government House, for word
came secretly that English ships were coming
from Boston to capture him. He had there-

"AS WATER UNTO WINE"

>93

fore 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 her that when
he returned from a certain cruise he would visit
her again, for he 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 he sailed for the Spaniards* country, but
she had said no, and when he urged it she had
shown a sudden coldness. Therefore, bidding
her good-bye, he had sailed away with Phips,
accompanied, much against his will, by Radis-
son. Bucklaw was not with them. He had set
sail from England in a trading schooner, and

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194 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

was to join Phips at Port de la Planta. Geringf
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 command of the Swallow^ a
smaller ship, got away to the south, Iberville
also sailed in the same direction. He had found
awaiting him, on his return to Quebec, a priest
bearing messages and a chart from another
priest who had died m the Spaniards' countiy.

CHAPTER XIV

IN WHICH THE HUNTERS ARE OUT

IBERVILLE had a good ship. The Maid
of Provence carried a handful of r^uns and
a small but carefully chosen crew, together
with Sainte-H^l^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 adventure, and Iber-
ville 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 mer-
chant ships which had been suddenly turned
into men-of-war, and was suited to the present
enterprise: taciturn, harsh of voice, singularly
impatient, but a perfect seaman and as brave as

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

could be. He had come to Quebec late th^
previous autumn with the remnants of a ship
which, rotten when she left the port of Havre,
had sprung a leak in mid-ocean, had met a storm,
lost her mainmast, and by the time she reached
the St. Lawrence had scarce a stick standing.
She was still at Quebec, tied up in the bay of
St. Charles, from which she would probably go
out no more. Her captain — Jean Berigord —
had chafed on the bit in the little Hdtel Col-
bert, 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 expedition 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 Maid of Provence left the island of
Orleans, her nose seawards, one fine July morn-
ing, the only persons in Quebec that knew
her destination were the priest who had brought
Iberville the chart of the river, with its accurate
location of the sunken galleon, Iberville's

■y

IN WHICH THE HUNTERS ARE OUT 197

brothers, and Count Frontenac himself — returned
again as governor.

'^ See, Monsieur loerviile, said tne governor,
as with a fine 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 greedy
English pay dear for it. They have a long
start, but that is nothing, with a ship under you
that can show its heels to any craft. I care
not so much about the treasure, but I pray you
humble those dull Puritans, who turn buccaneers
in the name of the Lord/

Iberville made a gallant reply, and, with
Sainte-H^l^ne, 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 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 his mistress and his king; both
forget, but one'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, proud, impatient, tyrannical, was the
one man in New France who had a powerful
idea of the future of the country, and who lo/ed
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 little for the duties of maternity and more
eager to serve her own ambitions than his, left
him that she might share the fortunes of Made-
moiselle de Montpensier.

Iberville had mastered the chart before he
sailed, and when they were well on their way

IN WHICH THE HUNTERS ARE OUT 199

he disclosed to the captain the object of their
voyage. Berigord listened to all he had to say,
and at first did no more than 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 Iber-
ville good-humouredly. "There will be sport,
and I ask but that you give me every chance
you can."

** Look then, monsieur," replied the smile^'.ss
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 I "

Iberville wished nothing better — a captain
concerned 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

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200 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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
another. 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 apprehensive that a fleet of the
kind could only be hostile, for merchant ships
would hardly sail together so, and it was not
possible that they were French. There remained
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 before he reached Port de la Planta and
had had his 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 avoid-
ing a battle without running away — the glass

IN WHICH THE HUNTERS ARE OUT 201

had been falling all night and morning. Beri-
gord, 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 how-
ever. A wind suddenly sprang up from the
north-west, followed by a breaking cross sea.
It as suddenly swelled to a hurricane, so that if
Berigord had not been fortunate as to his crew,
and had not been so fine a sailor, the Maid of
Provence might have fared badly, for he kept all
sail on as long as 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 ham-
mered 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, which had fared ill. They were first
scattered, then two of them went down, another
was so disabled that she had to be turned back

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 q/
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 Hispaniola
came in sight

U' !•

Ih'Nilii

/ /

-J-

CHAPTER XV

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW

THE Bridgwater Merchant and the Swallow
made the voyage down with no set-backs,
having fair weather and a sweet wind on their
quarter all the way, to the 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 Flanta. There were no vessels
in 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 intern perately on the sea and the land,
covering all with a fine beautiful haze, like the

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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most exquisite powder sifted through the air.
All on board the Bridgwater Merchant and the
Swallow were in hearty spirits. There had been
some sickness, but the general health of the ex-
pedition was excellent. ^

It was not till the 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 opposition among
the natives — if there were any. But h6 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 of Phips* quality, with no par-
ticular niceness as to women, or horror as to
mutiny when it was twenty years old, com-
promised with their conscience for expediency
and gain. Moreover, in his humorous way,
Bucklaw, during his connection with Phips in
England, had made himself agreeable and re-

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW 205

sourcefuL Phips himself had sprung from the
lower orders, — the son of a small farmer, — and
even in future days, when he 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 knew that his only game was that of
bluntness. This was why he boarded Phips in
Cheapside without subterfuge or disguise.

Nor had Phips told Bucklaw of Gering's
coming: so that when the Bridgwater Mer-
chant and the Swallow entered Port de la
Planta, Bucklaw himself, as he bore out in a
small sail-boat, did not guess that he was likely
to meet a desperate enemy. He had waited
patiently, and had reckoned almost to a day
when Phips would arrive. He was alongside
before Phips had called anchor. His cheerful
countenance 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 astonishment. He and Radisson had

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ao6 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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, the same buoyant voice. For himself, he
had no particular quarrel with Radisson ; the
more so because he saw a hang-dog sulkiness in
Radisson'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
humorous cynicism. He could have great
admiration for an enemy such as Iberville ;
and he was not a man to fight needlessly. He
had a firm belief that he had been intended
for a high position —a great admiral, or general,
or a notable buccaneer.

Before Radisson 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 Radisson, Phips

^■'s..

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IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW 207

disliked Radisson ; the sinister Frenchman,
with his evil history, was impossible to the
open, bluff captain. He had been placed upon
Phips' vessel because he knew the entrance 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 on the ship —
having none of the cunning tact of Bucklaw.
As Phips and Bucklaw went below, a sudden
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 had 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

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208 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD ■'

•

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 Swallow^ whose name Phips did
not mention. Phips himself was to remain on
the Bridgwater Merchant^ the Swallow 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 com-
mander of the Swallow, For a moment the
fellow's coolness was shaken ; the sparkle died
out of his eye and he shot up a furtive look at
Phips, but he caught a grim smile on the face of
the sturdy sailor. He knew at once there was
no treachery meant, and he guessed that Phips
expected no crisis. It was ever his way to act
with promptness, being never so resourceful as
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 helped, and as it was
no harm came anyhow."

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IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW 209

/ "Bygones are bygones/* replied the other,
"and let's hope that Mr. Gering will say so
too."

" Haven't you told him, sir?*

"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. He trusted,
however, to the time that had passed since the
kidnapping, and on Gering's hunger for treasure.
Phips had compromised, and why not he ? But
if Gering was bent on trouble, why, there was
the 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 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 ; then he
could draw upon his resources. He was puzzled
about Radisson, but Radisson could wait ; he
was so much the superior of the coarser villain
14

a 10 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 appeared.

Phips had not even told his lieutenant But
Gering 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 con-
demned to death, the villain who tried to kidnao
Mistress Leveret."

It was Bucklaw that replied. ** Right — right
you are, Mr. Gering. I'm Bucklaw, mutineer,
or what else you please. But that's ancient

\ ;

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW tii

-^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 fortune, gfive 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 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 no matter ! All English —
all together I But I am French — I am the dirt

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

^I am for the scuppers. Bah 1 I will have the
same as Bucklavv — you see?"

" You will have the irons, my friend I " Phips
roared.

A knife flashed in the air, and Bucklaw's
pistol was out at the same instant. The knife
caught Bucklavv 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 for-
ward, pulled himself together, and, stooping,
emptied his pistol into the moaning Radisson.
Then he sank on his knees, snatched the other's
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 motionless Bucklaw, pinning an arm tcr the

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW 213

ground. Then he muttered an oath and fell
back dead.

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
brewing for him, but Bucklaw was a humorous
do^.»

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."

214 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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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 within half an hour was dropped into the
deep. The surgeon, however, would not permit
Bucklaw to be removed until he had been cared
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
command 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 brought to him of any
change.

Early in the morning Gering, after having
received instructions from Phips, so far as he
knew (for Bucklaw had not told all that was
necessary), departed for the river. The canoe

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW 215

and tender went up the stream a distance,
and began to work down from the farthest
point indicated in the chart Gering continued
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 vestige 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

unrewarded labour worked on the men, and at
last the divers shirked their task.

Meanvvhile, Bucklaw was fighting hard for life.

As time passed, the flush of expectancy waned ;
the heat was great, the waiting seemed endless.
Adventure 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 day went in a
quest which became dreary, and night after
night settled upon discontent. Then came
threats. But this was chiefly upon the Bridg-^
water Merchant Phips had picked up his
sailors in English ports, and nearly all of them
were brutal adventurers. They were men used
to desperate enterprises, and they had flocked
to him because they smelled excitement and
booty. Of ordinary merchant seamen there
were only a few. When the Duke of Albemarle
had come aboard at Plymouth before they set
sail, 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

IN THE MATIER OF BUCKLAW 217

heart he himself 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
man of desperate deeds, but he knew that in
himself the pirate had a master. Besides, he
would pick up in Boston a dozen men upon
whom he could depend ; and cowardice had no
place in him. Again, the Siva How, 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^ there was
faithful, if gloomy, obedience, on the Swalloiv.
Had there been plenty of work to do, had they
been at sea instead of at anchor, the nervousness
would have been little; but idleness begot
irritation, and irritation mutiny. Or had Bucklaw
been on deck, instead 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

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218 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

have had immediate personal influence repressive
of revolt As it was, Phips had to work the
thing out 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. Indefiniteness of
thought, of time, of event, seemed over all ; on
board the two ships life swung idly as a ham-
mock ; but only so in appearance.

Phips was leaning against the deck-house,
watching through his 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 angen

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

^ j

IN THE MATTER OF BUCKLAW 319

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

" Then," cried Phips, " in the name of all the
devils, what 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.

"That's it, you filthy rogues?" he roared.
" Me to turn 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 v/ere
threatening 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

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220 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

it; if not now, when we get Bucklaw on his
feet."

"Ay I Bucklaw! Bucklaw!" ran through the
throng.

"Well, then, Bucklaw, as you say I 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 I —
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 oa

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CHAPTER XVI

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE

THE canoes and tender kept husking up
down among the Shallows, finding no-
thing. At last one morning they pushed out
from the side of the Bridgwater Merchant, more
limp than ever. The stroke of the oars was list-
less, 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 O my lassl an' O the gay gown,

Which I have seen my pretty in I

"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.
821

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22a THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

I knows a port, an' it's a good port,
I knows a home, an' it's a good homo«

But O the pretty that is my sort,
That's wearyin' till I cornel

"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, I say.

That's stole the sailor man's bride I **

The song had its way with them and they
joined in and lay to their oars with almost too
much goodwill. Gering, his arms upon the side
of the canoe, was looking into the water idly.
It was cl'^ar far down, and presently he saw
w!-at 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 out-
side the Boilers in deep water. Drawing back
carefully, he saw the feather again, and ordered
one of the divers to go down.

They could see the man descend and gather
the feather, then he plunged deeper still and
they lost sight of him. But soon he came up

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE

223

rapidly, and was quickly inside the boat, to
tell Gering hat he had seen several great guns.
At this the crew peered over the boat -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 re-
turning with something in his arm. He handed
up his prize, and behold it was a pig of silver I

The treasure was found ; and there went up a
great cheer. All was activity, for, apart from
the delight of discovery, Phips 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 silver the air rang with shouts.

As Gering stepped on board with the silver
Captain Phips ran forward, clasped it in both
hands, and cried, " We are all made, thanks be
to God I "

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294 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Then all hands were ordered on board, and
because the treasure lay in a safe anchorage
they got the ships away towards it

Bucklaw, in the surgeon's cabin, was called
out of delirium by the noise. He was worn
almost to a skeleton, his eyes were big and
staring, his face had the paleness of death.
The return to consciousness was sudden —
perhaps nothing else could have called him
back. He wriggled put 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 1 "
he said.

There was a shuffling behmd them, and as
Phips turned, a figure lunged on him, clutched
and hugged the silver. It was Bucklaw.

"Mine! mine I" he called in a hoarse voice,
with great gluttonous eyes. " All mine I ** he
cried again. Then he gasped and came to the

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE

895

M n

ground in a 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 consecrated
the firstfruits of the treasure.

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,
that 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 Bridgwater Merchant and the
Swallow 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

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226

THE TRAIL OF THE Sa'ORD

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 distributed 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 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

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE

227

sunset — the Swallow 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. Escaping the English warships, she fell
in with a pirate craft. She closed with it,
plugged it with cannon-shot, and drew off, then
took the wind on her beam and came drifting
down on her, boarded her and, after a swift and
desperate fight, killed 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 fight-
ing, and drifting out of their course, they had
lost ten days ; and thus it was they reached the
harbour a few hours after the Bridgwater Mer-
chant and the Swallow had left.

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228

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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, 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 followers. For days they sailed
without seeing a single ship ; then three showed
upon the horizon arid faded away. They
kept on, passing Florida and Carolina, hoping
to reach Boston before the treasure-ships, and

1 ■ ■■'■

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE

229

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 el3e to do, weiit idling up and down
all night, keeping watch. The next morning
there was a mist in the air, which might become
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 away to meet the new-comers, and
they were not long in finding these to be
their quarry.

Phips did not think that any shfp 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

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230 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

France at the mizzen, and a round shot rattled
through the rigging of the Bridgwater 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 SivalloWy 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 dis-
pose 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 mainmast gone. The
cannonade was heard in Boston, from which, a
few hours later, two merchantmen 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
Merchant, edged slowly down, a fog came
between, and the firing ceased on both sides.

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE

231

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 Swallow — it was she — were
stove in, and then a wild cry. Instantly she
began to sink. The grappling-irons remained
motionless on the Maid of Provence. Iberville
heard a commanding voice, a cheer, and saw a
dozen figures jump from the shattered 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, catch-
ing the chains, and scrambling on deck. A
cheer greeted him — the Frenchmen could not
but admire so brave a feat The Englishman
took no notice, but instantly 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

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332

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 — Iberville, Sainte-H^l^ne, Per-
rot, Maurice Joval, and the staring sailors. He
choked down his emotion and faced them all
like an animal at bay as Iberville stepped for-
ward. Without a word Gering pointed to the
empty scabbard at his side.

" No, pardon me," said Iberville drily, ** not as
our prisoner, monsieur. You have us at advan-
tage ; 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.

"Truly; and for the treasure — fair bone of
fight between us."

I !

IN THE TREASURE HOUSE

233

There was a pause, in which Gering stood
half turned from them, listening. But the
Bridgwater Merchant had drifted away in the
mistl Presently he turned again to Iberville
with a smile defiant and triumphant. Iberville
understood, but showed nothing of what he felt,
and he asked Sainte-H^16ne 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 different form., monsieur."

*• Monsieur," said Gering, a little grandly, ** you

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.»

234

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

have come to me three times ; next time I will
come to you.**

" ^ trust 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 '-^ the harbour of Quebec for a
month awaiting his return. Even Frontenac
himself could not help him, for the order had
come from the French minister.

•

i'M^

:i-s: ' i^i;

CHAPTER XVII

THE GIFT OF A CAPTIVE

■s-^

FORTUNE had not been kind to Iberville,
but still he kept a stoical cheeKulness.
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 should
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 before he started for France they
sat together in a little house flanking the
Chateau 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 abb^, there is but one thing worth

286

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236 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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, trusted you ; we have been
good comrades. Come, now, tell me: what
would you think if my mind drifted I No, no,
no ! to stand by one's own heart is the gift of
an honest man. I am a sad rogue, abb^, as
you know, but I 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, 1 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 abba's
shoulder, and his voice softened: "Abb^ 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 Englishman is his foe.

"But the girl is English — and a heretic,"
urged the abbd helplessly.

-/■

THE GIFT OF A CAPTIVE

«37

Perrot laughed again. **That will make Him
lorry 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 folded it up with a smile and scaled
it "Well "he 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 nothing. 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 he had taken in Spain years before. He
had prevented /lis 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

Kill (■

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238

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

hand. ** Bicn" 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 1 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 and
days, Indians all round us. Death in the brush,
death in the tree-top, death 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 all 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. Well, 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 1 And what will you do for love ? — I will
ask her what will you do for love. Ah, you are
a great man — mais ouil I will tell her so.**

,'■1 I

i'.ii' i

THE GIFT OF A CAPTIVE

239

** Tell her what you please, Perrot.**

Iberville hummed an air as at some goodly
prospect. 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 comrades had been ever
ready to sacrifice themselves for him, snd he
ready to accept the sacrifice. He wjis not
ashamed of the mist, but he wondered that the
thing 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 imperfect man, — that touch of
the aboriginal in all of us, who must have a sign
for an enriotion, — 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 I " he said.

" Ah^ mon grand capitaine ! *

Iberville turned away, then came back again.
*• You will start at once ? "

** At once ; and the abb^ shall write."

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240

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Uprj the lofty bank of the St. Lawrence, at
the Sault au Matelot, a tall figure clad in a
cassoc). stood and watched the river below. On
tile 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 t2t 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, nd out
upon the river trailed long processions of light.
It was the feast of good Sainte Anne de Beaupr^.
All day long had there been masses and pro-
cessions on land. Hundreds of Jesuits, with
thousands of the populace, had filed behind the
crosf. and the host. And now there was a
candle in every window Indians, half-breeds,
coureurs du bois^ native Canadians, seigneurs,
and noblesse, were joining in the function. But
De Casson'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 ^y&s never left it till it had passed beyond

-■^^'

THE GIFT OF A CAPTIVE

a4i

the island of Orleans and was lost in the
night

" Mon Mr\^ he said, ^*mon enfantX 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 SalleV

All the human affection of the good abba's

life centred upon Iberville. Giant in stature, so

ascetic and refined was his mind, his life, that he

had the intuition 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 r,nd down Mountain Street, his thoughts

were still upon the same subject He suddenly

paused.
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243 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

" 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.

1..J, 3..- ,! . ''■ * .

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 NichoUs 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.
Her 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 tender-

248

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244

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

ness 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 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-
forgetfulness.

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 lea^

As the breeze to the flower,
As the scent of a rose to the heart of a cmldi
As the rain to the dusty land—
My heart goeth out unto Thee — unto Thee!
Tlhe night is far spent and the day is at hand.

il'i!

MJltr

"As the song ot 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 — to Thy word !
The night is far spent and the day is at hand***

It was Morris who was singing. With growth

MAIDEN NO MORE

a45

of years had come increase of piety, and it was
his custom 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 signifi-
cance. By the time it had passed through the
atmosphere of memory and meditation, it carried
a different meaning. 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 married.
George Gering had returned to her, for the
second time defeated 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 receive a dividend from the second. There-
fore she was ready to fulfil her promise. Yet
had she misgivings? For, only a few days

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346

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 after Morris had done with singing
there came a tapping at her door. She answered
and old Pastor Macklin entered,— a white-haired
man of kindly yet stern countenance — by nature
a gentleman, by practice a bigot. He came
forward and took both her hands as she rose.
" My dear young lady I " 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.

MAIDEN NO MORE

247

** But suppose that at the altar I remembered
another man ? "

"A sin, my child, for which should be due
sorrow."

The girl smiled sadly. She felt poignantly
how little he could help her.

"And if the man were a Catholic and a
Frenchman ? *' she said.

"A papist and a Frenchman!" he cried,
lifting up his hands. " My daughter, you ever
were too playful. You speak of things impos-
sible. I pray you listen.**

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

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348

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 I *' 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 htm, 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 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 I " he re-
sponded.

" Well, yes," she said musingly ; *' I think you
are something of a villain, George."

"Well, well, you shall cure me of all mine

MAIDEN NO MORE

949

iniquities/' 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 ejlorio'ds. The town was garlanded, and
there was not an English merchant or a Dutch

burgher but wore his holiday dress. The
ceremony ended, a traveller came 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, nodded
his head and said, " The abb^ was right."

It was Perrot. A few hours afterwards the
crowd had gone and the governor's garden was
empty. Perrot 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. He
remembered the secret gate. He made a

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

detour, reached it, and entered. Jessica 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 Perrot faced her, she
gave a little cry and started back. But presently
she recovered, smiled at him, and said kindly,
" You come suddenly, 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 Iber-
ville."

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.

** Monsieur," she said, " you will tell Monsieur
Iberville that I may not; I am married."

MAIDEN NO MORE

251

** 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 ! " he 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 wocdb:riian pressed it to his lips.
"I am sorry, madame," he replied, with an
admiring look.

She shook her head sadly. "Adieu, monsieur!"
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 to the house, where, inside her

♦;;|

252 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

own room, she lighted a candle. She turned the
letter over in her hand once or twice, and her
fingers hung 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.

led the
nd her
ice she
^e, firm
pass in

(Rpoclj iht fisntttf

CHAPTER XIX

WHICH TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD
CRYING FROM THE GROUND

TWO men stood leaning against a great gun
aloft on the heights 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 d glance of authority. 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."

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254

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

'la if J.

fii . '««|,,„:

-It

"You honour me, sir" was the reply; "and,
believe me, there is none in Quebec but thanks
God that their governor is here before Phips
rounds Isle Orleans yonder."

"You did nobly while I was away there in
Montreal, waiting for the New Yorkers to take
it^f they could. They were a sorry rabble, for
they rushed on La Prairie, — 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 I We will give
them chance for bravery. Our forts are strong
from the Sault au Matelot round to Cham-
pigny'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. "Spokea 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

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 2*35

the villages, besides Callicres* 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"

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. Never had thefe been in Quebec a
more moving sight than when he arrived from
Montreal the evening before, and climbed Moun-
tain 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
Intendant, Sainte-H^l^ne, Maricourt, and Lon-
gueil, 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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."

" 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 look-
ing 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, sur-
prised, 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.

r ■

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 257

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
gentlemen 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 promise now."

"'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 plan of the fortifications
to the Government of Massachusetts. He
passed .in the name 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."
17

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

" His name was not Escott. It was Gering —
Captain George Gering."

The governor looked hard at Iberville for a
moment, and a grim smile played upon his lips.
" H'm I How do you guess that ? "

" From Perrot, who knows him well.*

•• Why did Perrot not tell me ? "

"Perrot and Sainte-Hd^ne 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 nothing."

" And what imports this ? "

'* I have no doubt that Mr. Gering is with Sir
Williain 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 hi^ companion. " The
new mistress turned against the old, Iberville ! "
he said. " Gering is /ler husband, eh ? Well, I
will trust you : it shall be as you wish — a matter
for us two alone."

At that moment Sainte - Hdl^nf; and Mari-
court appeared, and presently, in the waning

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 259

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 vv.itchers 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 banner flaunting from the
chateau and the citadel, the batteries, the
sentinels upon the walls — were suggestive 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."

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Disguised as a riverman, Iberville 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
attack. Had Phips acted upon his advice the
record of the next few days might have been
reversed. But the disease of counsel, delibera-
tion, and prayer had entered into the scul of the
sailor and treasure -hunter, now Sir William

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 261

himself,
most to
le freak
brought
ed from
berville,
k Phips
lis. He
ip. His
loulders,
:ourtesy.
le cried,

not stir,
ct voice,

** quite

ling and
Ivice the
ive been
lelibera-
il of the
I 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 game," was the
reply. "Calli^res, the governor of Montreal,
with his Canadians, and Nicholas Perrot with
his coureurs du bois have arrived. You have
too much delay, monsieur."

In Quebec, when this contingent arrived, the
people went wild. And Perrot was never
prouder than when, in Mountain Street, Iber-
ville, after three years' absence, threw his arms
round him and kissed him on each cheek.

It was in the dark hour before daybreak that
Iberville and Perrot met for their first talk
after the long separation. What had occurred
on the day of Jessica's marriage Perrot had,
with the Abb^ de Casson's help, written to
Iberville. But they had had no words together.

262

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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Now, in a room of the citadel wliich looked out
on the darkness of the river and the deeper
gloom of the Levic shore, they sat and talked, a
single candle burning, their weapons laid en thci
table between them.

They said little at first, but sat in the window
looking do n r !:h. town and he river. At
last xbervrli, pel*. "Tell me it all as you
remember it, i _irot."

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 f' ew 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?"

Iberville laughed. Then he leaned forward,
and found Perrot's eyes in the half darkness.

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 26

" Perrot, she kept the letter, slie would have kept
the ring if .,he could. Listen : Monsieur Gering
has neld to his word ; he has come to seek me
this time. He krc ,vs that while I live the
woman is not his, though she bears his name.
SI e ix.drried 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 yif * ' her
hand while her heart remains in her own k^^i g.
Well, he has come. Now, one way o» £. otiier
he must be mine. We have great acco nts to
settle, and I want it done between h^ ad 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-H^l^ne
and Maricourt know him, and they with myself,
Clermont, and Saint Denis, are to lead and
resist attacks by land — Frontenac has promised

264 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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that : so he must be ours one way or another.
He must be captured, tried as a spy, and then
he is mine — is mine ! "

" Tried as a spy — ah, I see I 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 !
Remember 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. Still 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

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 265

about his forehead, his deep eyes 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 agaia

Iberville told his plans. The abb^ lifted his
fingers in admonition once or twice, but his
eyes flashed as Iberville spoke of an attempt to
capture the admiral on his own ship. When
Iberville had finished, he 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, abbd**

"Yet you have spoken." He sighed and
raised his hand. "The man — the men — down
there would destroy our country. They are our
enemies, and we do well to slay. But remember,
Pierre — 'What God hath joined let no man put
asunder I * To fight him as an enemy of your
country — well ; to fight him that you may put
asunder is not well."

A 190k, half- pained, half- amused, crossed
Iberville's face.

** And yet heretics — heretics, abb^ I **

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266 THE TRAIL OF TUE SWORD

" Marriage is no heresy."
" H'm — they say different at Versailles.**
" 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 the 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 natures.
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 - Sali^res
regiment.

TELLS OF A BROTHERS BLOOD 267

>•

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ps not."
resently
w forth
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)lin, and

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;se men

d them
natures.

uned it
There

learn of

ven as

ontreal,
ir. At

lich had
allures

Instantly Iberville and Perrot responded, and
there rang out from three strong throats the
words —

"There was a king of Normandy,
And he rode forth to war,

Gat faluron falurette !
He had five hundred men — no more t
Gai faluron dondit

, "There was a king of Normandy,
Came back from war again ;
He brought a maid, O, fair was she I
And twice five hundred men—
Gai faluron falurette t
Gai faluron dondil**

They were still singing when soldiers came
by the 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 the 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 attv mpt — repulsed — by a handful of men
to examine the landing. The next morning.

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

however, the attack began. Twelve hundred
men were landed at Beauport, in the mud and
low water, under one Major Walley. With him
was Gering, keen for action — he had persuaded
Phips to allow him to fight on land.

To meet the English, Iberville, Sainte-H^i^ne,
and Perrot issued forth with three hundred
sharpshooters and a band of Huron Indians. In
the skirmish 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 Englander ordered, Iberville and
Perrot saw Gering, and they tried hard to reach
him.. But the movement between 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, spent his day in a
terrible cannonading, which did no great damage
to the town — or the cliff. It was a game of

•i •

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 269

lundred
lud and
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thunder, nothing worse, and Walley and Gering
with their men were neglected.

The fight with the ships began again at day-
break. Iberville, seeing that Walley would not
attack, joined Sainte-H^l^ne and Maricourt at
the battery, and one of Iberville's shots brought
down the admiral's flagstaff, with its cross of
St. George. It drifted towards the shore, and
Maurice Joval went out in a canoe under a
galling fire and brought it up to Frontenac.

Iberville and Sainte- H^l^ne concentrated
themselves on the Six Friends — the admiral's
ship. In vain Phip's 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 mizzen-
mast, and handled her as viciously as only
expert gunners could. The New Englander
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

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270 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 cautious Walley
to dash across the river and make a desperate
charge up the hill, and in at the back door of
the town. But Walley was, after all, a merchant
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 ammuni-
tion promised by Phips, with little or no food
and useless field-pieces, their lot was hard.

But Gering had his way the next morning.
Walley 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

!|i

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 271

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 suddenly hurry forward. In an instant
he was dashing down to join his brothers,
Sainte-Hdl^ne, Longueil, and Perrot ; and at
the head of a body of men they pushed on to
get over the ford and hold it, while 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 ploughmen. 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:
Iberville 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 opportunity.
Gering's men were badly exposed, and he sent
them hard at the thickets, clearing the out-
posts at some heavy loss. His men were now
scattered, and he shifted his position so as to
bring him nearer the spot where Sainte-H^lene
and Longueil were pushing forward fresh out-
posts. He saw the activity of the two brothers,
but did not recognise them, and sent a handful
of men to dislodge them. Both Sainte-H^l^ne
and Longueil exposed themselves for a moment,
as they made for an advantageous thicket.
Gering saw his opportunity, took a musket from
a soldier and fired. Sainte-Hd^ne 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 J oval, took steady aim and fired. The
distance was too great, the wind too strong;

han once
muskets,
ieed did
:hance of
portunity.
i he sent
the out-
were now
so as to
te-H^lene
fresh out-
► brothers,
a handful
te-Hdl^ne
I moment,
J thicket,
sket from
[ mortally
rith a cry

.ir. With
sket from
red. The
strong;

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S BLOOD 273

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 dearl)'^, but
Perrot called to them to surrender. Gering saw
the fruitlessness of resistance and, to save his
companions* lives, yielded.

The siege of Quebec was over. The British
contented themselves with holding their position
till Walley returned bearing the admiral's
orders to embark again for the fleet. And
so in due 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 knowledge that the capture of C bee
was not so easy as finding a lost treasur He
had tried in vain to effect Gering's release

When Gering surrendered, Perrot ^o >k his

sword with a grim coolness and said, " Come,
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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

monsieur, and see what you think your stay
with us may be like."

In a moment he was stopped beside the
dead body of Sainte Hd^ne. "Your musket
did this," said Perrot, pointing down. " Do you
know him ? "

Gering stooped over and looked. " My God ! "
he said, " Sainte-H^l^ne ! "

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
Longucil.

"And here, monsieur, is another brother of
Monsieur Iberville," he said.

Longueil was insensible but not dangerously
wounUed. Perrot gave a signal and the two
brothers were lifted and carried down towards
the ford, followed by Perrot and Gering. On
their way they met Iberville.

All the brother, the comrade, in Iberville
spoks 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-H^l^ne. Motioning to the men to put

TELLS OF A BROTHER'S i3L00D 275

it down, he stooped and toolc Perrot's scarf
from the dead face. It was yet warm, and the
handsome features wore a smile. Iberville
looked for a moment with a strange, cold quiet-
ness. He laid his hand upon the brow,
touched the cheek, gave a great sigh, and made
the sacred gesture over the body ; then taking
his own handkerchief he spread it over the
face. Presently he motioned for the bodies to
be carried on.

Perrot whispered to him, and now he turned
and looked at Gering with a malignant steadi-
ness.

"You have had the great h .jur, 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 of bitterness
and hatred. "Why did we spare you?" he
repeated, and paused.

Gering could understand Iberville's quiet.

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276

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

vicious anger. He would rather have lost a
hand than have killed Sainte-H^l^ne, who had,
on board the ATaid 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
answered nothing. That night he was lodged
in the citadel

CHAPTER XX

7
II

once

A TRAP IS SET

GERING was tried before Governor Fron.
tenac and the full cor.ncl'i. It was certain
that he, while a prisoner at Quebec, had sent to
Boston plans 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 temper of the court was
against him. Most important was the enmity
of the Jesuits, whose hatred of Puritanism 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

man into their hands. In secret ways their
influence was strong upon many of the council,
particularly those who were not soldiers. A
soldier can appreciate bravery, and Gering had
been courageous. But he had killed one of the
most beloved of Canadian officers, the gallant
Sainte-H^l^nel 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 some-
times 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

A TRAP IS SET

279

sentence, 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 sailors, ploughmen
and merchant captains, and fishing 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 eyes 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 abroadi distorted

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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-
Hd^ne 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 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 had see-sawed the one against
the 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 prisoner, 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
comer and very narrow, the walls not coming
to a right angle, but having another little strip
of wall between. He tried to settle its position

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*IV

A TRAP IS SET

fl8i

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 staiicase, 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 town still
full of armed men, he would have a perilous run.
He tried the door: it was stoutly fastened;
the bolts were on the other side ; the keyhole
was filled. Here was sufHcient 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 mocking door, then smiled
at his own poor condition and gave himself 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

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a89 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD ;

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 dissipated a certain
selfish and envious strain in him. Jessica had
drawn from him the Puritanism which had
made him self-conscious, envious, insular.

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CHAPTER XXI

AN UNTOWARD 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
helplessly, had still a distinguished look, an air
of honourable 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!" he
said chuckling. "Ah, the treasure I" '

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384

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Jessica did not reply. Her fingers went
up to her eyes; they seemed to cool the hot
lids. ''

"Ay, ay, it was good," he added, in a
quavering voice, "and I gave you your
dowry I "

Now there was a gentle, soft laugh of delight
and pride, and he reached out a hand towards
her. She responded with a little laug^h which
was not unlike his, but there was something
more : that old sweet sprightliness of her youth,
shot through with a haunting 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 stirring. 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 servant Hulm
in the passage, who stretched out her hand in
distress. - .

! t '■- 'pi

AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER

285

"What is it, Hulm?" she said, a chill at her
heart

** Oh, how can I tell you 1 " was the answer.
** Our fleet was beaten, and — and my master is
a prisoner."

The wife saw that this was not all. ** Tell me
everything, Hulm," she said trembling, yet
ready for the worst.

" Oh, my dear, dear mistress, I cannot I "

" 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 instantly. 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."

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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She then passed down a side staircase and
entered the dining-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, madame, very well. Madame, I am
sorry " —

" 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, madame — ready ? You do not think \
of going?"

**Yes, I am going." ' -^

** But, madame, it is not safe. The Abenaquis
and Iroquois are not friendly, and " — > ? ,

" Is tAts friendly ? Is it like a good friend,
Aaron Hulm? Did I not nurse your mother
when" — .^ ;.

t He dropped on one knee, took her hand and
kissed it. " Madame," he said loyally, " I will do
anything you ask , I feared only for your safety."

An hour afterwards she came into the room

• .iV"^

AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER

287

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where her father still slept. Stooping, she
kissed his forehead 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 bot//
come back — both, Hulm, you understand I **
. ** Dear mistress, I understand." But the poor
soul made a gesture of despair. *

**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 from
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." v

In ten minute^i 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Quebec alive, but no member of the party was
more cheeiful than Jessica. Her bravery and
spirit never faltered before the others, though
sometimes at ni<jht, 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 was rewarded by seeing,
from the point of Levis, the citadel of Quebec.

They were questioned and kept in check 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
himself 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

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AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER

289

governor. He was at dinner when she came.
When 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.
Wonder 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 nands and face
were tanned. The eloquence of her eyes, the
sonowful, 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, Frontenac 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 man went away
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290 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

Madame, 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 might be pre-
judiced," rejoined the governor. "A brother*s
life has weight"

"A brother's lifel" she broke in fearfully.

"Madame, your husband killed Iberville's
brother."

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.

AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER 391

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 u
life — for justice"

" You mistake, madanie," he said ; " I was
not grudging the time — for myself."

At that moment Maurice joval entered and
whispered to the governor. Frontenac rose.

"Madame/* he said, "your* husband has
escaped."

A cry broke from her. *' Escaped 1 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 "

"Only this, madame: he may be retaken
and "—

" And then ? What then ? " she cried.

"Upon what happens then," he as drily as
regretfully added, " I shall have no power."

But to the quick searching prayer, the proud
eloquence of the woman, the governor, bound

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

though he was to secrecy, could not be ada-
mant

"There is but one thing I can do for you,'*
he said at last " You know Father DoUier de
Casson ? "

To her assent, he added, "Then go to him.
Ask no questions. If anything can be done, he
may 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 excel-
lency?" 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 abba's house — that, and no more.

The governor, left alone, looked at the hand
that she had kissed and said, " Well, well, I am
but a fool still. Yet — a woman in a million I "
He took out his watch. " Too late ! " he added.
« Poor lady I "

AN UNTOWARD MESSENGER

293

A few minutes afterwards Jessica met the
abb^ on his ov7n doorstep. Maurice Joval
disappeared, and the priest and the woman were
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

"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 woman
and her husband were heretics, and what better
were they than thousands of others? Then,
Sainte-H^l^ne had been the soldier - priest's

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

pupil. Last of all, 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 — fc, 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."

.> •:<:::

CHAPTER XXII

FROM tiger's claw TO LION'S MOUTH

EVERY nation has its traitors, and there
was an English renegade soldier at
Quebec At Iberville's suggestion he was
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 corner-door of his cell.

Gering got free of the citadel — miraculously,
as he thought ; and, striking off from the 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

296

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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him. Scarcely a word was spoken by his
captors, and he did not know who they were,
until, after a long ddtour, he was brought inside
a manor-house, and there, in the light of flaring
candles, faced Perrot and Iberville. 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, he 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
unfortunate. 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
Years passed, you know well how. We met
in file Spaniards* country, where you killed
my servant; and again at Fort Rupert, you
fcmember. At the fort you surrendered before

TIGER'S CLAW TO LlOiN'S MOUTH ^97

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 my guest, and we could not fight ; all — all
unfortunate."

He paused. Gering was cool ; he saw Iber-
ville'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, 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."

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298

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

7?"

** You chose the better way, monsieur.*

*' I treat you with consideration, I hope,
monsieur."

Gering waved his hand in acknowledgment,
and said, " What weapons do you choose?**

Iberville quietly laid on the table a number of
swords.

"If I should survive this duel, monsieur/*
questioned Gering, "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,"
answered Iberville quietly. Then they took up
their swords.

CHAPTER XXIII

AT THE GATES OF MISFORTUNE

MEANWHILE the abbd and Jessica
were making their way swiftly towards
the manor-house. They 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'Abb^" she answered, "I have
travelled from Boston here — can you doubt it ? "

299

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300 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

The priest sighed. ** May the hope that gave
you strength remain, madame I "

A little longer and then they stood within
a garden thick with plants and trees. As
they passed through it, Jessica was vaguely
aware of the rich fragrance of fallen leaves
and the sound of waves washing the foot of
the cliffs.

The abbd gave a low call, and almost
instantly Perrot stood before them. Jessica
recognised him. With a little cry she stepped
to him quickly and placed her hand upon his
arm. She did not seem conscious that he
was her husband's enemy: her husband'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 abb^ said not a word, but stood gazing
off into the night.

" Will you not tell me of my husband?** she
repeated. "He is within that house?" She

AT THE GATES OF MISFORTUNE 301

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."
Just then the moon sho*: from behind a cloud,
and all their faces could je 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 in-
trepid was the struggle in her, and they both
pitied.

"Now I understand! Oh, now I under-
stand ! *' 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 I **

" Pardon me, madame," said Perrot, bristling
up, " not cowards. Your husband has a chance
for his life. You know Monsieur Iberville — ^he

302

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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is a man all honour. More than once he might
have had your husband's life, but he gave it
to him."

Her foot tapped the ground impatiently, her
hands clasped before her. '* Go on I 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
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 Mon-
sieur 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

mme.

AT THE GATES OF MISFORTUNE 303

Suddenly a thought flashed into her mind
Hfci 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 fingc/cd 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 as my right I have come from Count
Frontenac; he sent me to this good priest
here. Were my husband in the citadel now I
should be admitted. He is here with the man
who, you know, once said he loved me. My
husband is wickedly held a prisoner; I ask for
entrance to him."

Pleading, 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

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304 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

door is locked ; they arc 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 hallway.

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CHAPTER XXIV

IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED

HOW had it gone with Iberville and
Gering?
The room was large, scantily, though com-
fortably, furnished. For a moment after they
took up their swords they eyed each other
calmly. Iberville presently smiled : he was
recalling that night, years ago, when by the
light of the old Dutch lantern they had fallen
upon each other, swordsmen, even in those
days, of more than usual merit. They had
practised greatly since. Iberville was the taller
of the two, Gering the stouter. Iberville's eye
was slow, calculating, penetrating ; Gering's
was swift, strangely vigilant. Iberville's hand
was large, compact, and supple ; Gering's small
and firm.

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306 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

They drew and fell on guard. Each at first
played warily. They were keen to know how
much of skill was likely to enter into this duel,
for each meant that it should be deadly. In the
true swordsman there is found that curious sixth
sense, which is a combination of touch, sight,
apprehension, divination. They had scarcely
made half a dozen passes before each knew
that he was pitted against a master of the art —
an art partly lost in an age which better 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 into tierce, and, as he expected,
met the short parry and riposte. Gering tried
by many means to draw Iberville's attack, and,

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IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED 307

failing to do so, played more rapidly than he
ought, which was what Iberville wished.

Presently Iberville's chance came. In the care-
lessness of annoyance, Gering left part of his
sword arm uncovered, while he was meditating
a complex attack, and he paid the penalty by
getting a sharp prick from Iberville's sword-
point. The warning came to Gering in time.
When they crossed swords again, Iberville,
whether by chance or by momentary want of
skill, parried Gering's disengage from tierce to
carte on to his 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 attack 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

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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v'. i

a half-glance over his shoulder to see how near
Iberville saw his chance, his finger was shaping
a fatal lunge, when there suddenly came from
the hallway a woman's voice. So weird was it
that both swordsmen drew back, and once more
Gering's life was waiting in the hazard.

Strange to say, Iberville recognised the voice
first. He was angered with himself now that
he had paused upon the lunge and saved
Gering. Suddenly there rioted in him the dis-
appointed 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 Gering recognised his wife's
voice, and he turned pale. " My wife 1 " 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 g^reat move he had reserved for the last.
With the woman's voice at the door beseeching,
her fingers trembling upon the panel, they could

IN *VHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED 309

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 arriire 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 1
Pierre!"

He had never heard the voice speak that
name. It put out his judgment, and instead of
his sword passing through Gering's body it only
grazed his ribs.

Perhaps there was in, him some ancient touch
of superstition, some sense of fatalism, which
now made him rise to his feet and throw his
sword upon the table.

" Monsieur," he said cynically, " again we are
unfortunate."

Then he went to the door, unlocked it, and
threw it open upon Jessica. She came in upon
them trembling, pale, yet glowing with her
anxiety.

Instantly Iberville was all courtesy. One

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310 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 out Iberville's Christian
name. She rightly judged that this had saved
her husband's life, for she guessed that Iberville
was the better swordsman.

She placed her hands with slight 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." That was all.

He also had heard that cry, " Pierre," and he
felt shamed that his life was spared because of
it — he knew well why the sword had not gone
through his body. She felt less humiliation,

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IN WHICH THE SWQRD IS SHEATHED 311

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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
keeping with her purpose. Presently Iberville
said, as he poured a glass of wine for her, " Had
you been expected, madame, there were better
entertainment."

" Your entertainment, monsieur," she replied,
" has two sides," — she glanced at the swords —
** and this is the better."

** If it pleases you, madame.**

"I dare not say," she returned, "that my
coming was either pleasant or expected.

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THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

li^

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," she rejoined, with feeling, " will
you let me 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
hands — you will place them in mine now, will
you not?*'

Iberville did not reply directly. He twisted
his wineglass round, sipped from it pleasantly,
and said, ** Pardon me, madame, how were you
admitted here?*

She told him.

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IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED 313

" Singular, singular ! '* he replied ; " I never
knew Perrot fail me before. But you have
eloquence, madame, and he knew, no doubt,
that you would always be welcome to my
home.** ;

There was that in his voice which sent the
blood stinging through Gering's veins. He
half came to his feet, but his wife's warning,
pleading glance brought him to his chair
again. ^

** Monsieur, tell me," she said, " will you give
my husband his freedom ? *'

" Madame, his life is the State's."

"But he is in your hands now. Will you
not set him free ? You know that the charge
against him is false — false ! He is no spy.
Oh, monsieur, you and he have been enemies,
but you know that he could not do a dishonour-
able thing.'* ,

" Madame, my charges against him are true.**

"I know what they are," she said earnestly,
" but this strife is not worthy of you, and it is
shaming me. Monsieur, you know I speak
truly.**

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314 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

** 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, begging that hus-
band'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 liis
mind.

" Then, hear me," she said slowly. ** Th^re
was a motherless young girl. She had as fresh
and cheerful a heart as any in the world. She
had not many playmates, but there was one
j'oung lad who shared her sports and pleasant

ify.

IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED 315

.,■■ ■'/.■*. ■ ■ ■ . '~ . '■

hours, who was her good friend. Years passed ;
she was nearing 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 Iber-
ville'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

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316

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

always been near her, who can tell — who can
tell ? Again in later years the two men met,
the stranger the aggressor — without due cause."

" Pardon me, madanie, the deepest cause," said
Iberville meaningly.

She pretended not to understand, and con-
tinued —

"The girl, believing that what she was ex-
pected 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 niight 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 : het
husband's life was in the stranger's hand.

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IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED 317

Tlirough great danger she travelled to plead
for her husband's "ife. Monsieur, she does not
plead for an unworthy cause. She pleads for
justice, in the name of honourable warfare, for
the sake of all good manhood. Will — will

^ you refuse her?"

• , She paused. Gering's eyes were glisten-
ing. 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 at the woman with the pro-
found 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 men 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

318

THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

't .

own shoulder. Gering had lost blood, but weak
as he was he carried himself well. For full
half an hour Iberville stood mctionless 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, mon-
sieur," he said.

Iberville, nodding, came to the table where
stood the husband and wife, and Ferrot left the
room. He picked up a sword and laid it beside
Gering, 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

IN WHICH THE SWORD IS SHEATHED 319

Iberville. She looked at him steadily, but at
first he would not meet her eye. Presently,
however, he did so.

" Good - b) e," she said brokenly, " I shall
always remember — always."

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 I "* she cried, in a weak,
choking voice.

With impulse he caught both her hands in
his and kissed them. "I shall — remember,"
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
entered upon him, he was still in the same
position. Frontenac touched him on the arm,
and he rose. The governor did not speak, but

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320 THE TRAIL OF THE SWORD

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 and solemnly
pressed his lips against the hilt-cross.

THE ENa

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