The Grey Cloak - Page 210/256

It was a brave meal; the Frenchmen noisy and hungry, the priests

austere and quiet, the Indian converts solemnly impressed by their new

dignity. When the meal was over and the women had repaired to their

cabin for the night. Major du Puys signified that he desired to speak

in private to Messieurs d'Hérouville, d'Halluys, and du Cévennes; and

they wonderingly followed him into the inclosure.

"Messieurs," began the major, "there must he no private quarrels here.

Men found with drawn swords shall be shot the following morning without

the benefit of court-martial."

"Monsieur!" exclaimed D'Hérouville.

The Chevalier stamped restlessly, and the vicomte frowned.

"Have the patience to hear me through. There is ill-blood between you

three. The cause does not interest me, but here my word is law. The

safety of the mission depends wholly upon our order and harmony. The

savage is always quarreling, and he looks with awe upon the

tranquillity with which we go about our daily affairs. To maintain

this awe there must be no private quarrels. Digest this carefully.

Draw your weapons in a duel, just or unjust, and I promise to have you

shot."

"That appears to be final," remarked the vicomte. He was chagrined,

but it was not noticeable in his tones. "What industrious friend has

acquainted you with the state of affairs?"

"I was watching your actions last night," replied the major.

"And you saw the blow Monsieur du Cévennes struck me?" snarled

D'Hérouville.

"When you arrive again in Quebec, Messieurs, you may fight as

frequently as you please; but here I am master. I am giving you this

warning in a friendly spirit, and I hope you will accept it as such.

Good evening."

"Bah!" The vicomte slapped his sword angrily; "how many more acts are

there to this comedy? Eh, well, Chevalier, let us go and play dominoes

with Monsieur Nicot."

"All this is strangely fortunate for you two gentlemen," said

D'Hérouville, as they moved toward the fort.

"Or for you, Monsieur d'Hérouville," the vicomte sent back.

Three days trickled through the waist of the glass of time. The

afternoon of the fourth day was sunless, and the warning of an autumn

storm spoke from the flying grey clouds and the buoyant wind which blew

steadily from the west. Madame and her companion sat upon the shore,

attracted by the combing swells as they sifted and shifted the yellow

sand, deadwood, and weed. Pallid greens and browns flashed hither and

thither over the tops of the whispering rushes; and from their deeps

the blackbird trilled a querulous note. A flock of crows sped noisily

along the shore, and a brace of loons winged toward the north in long

and graceful loops of speed, and the last yellow butterflies of the

year fluttered about the water's edge. Far away to the southwest the

moving brown patch was a deer, brought there by his love of salt. From

behind, from the forest, came the faint song of the ax. A short

distance from the women Brother Jacques was mending a bark canoe; and

from time to time he looked up from his labor and smiled at them.