DesCaut, surely.
The stars wheeled in their endless march, the well-known ones of the
forenight giving place to strangers of the after hours, and Ridgar had
begun to move with the caution of the hunted, inch by inch, out from
the shelter of the lodge, when he felt a hand steal from the darkness
and touch him with infinite care. He lay still and presently a voice
whispered,
"M'sieu Ridgar?
"Aye?" breathed Ridgar.
"'Tis I,--Marc Dupre from De Seviere."
"Voila! Another! Are there more of you?"
"I would know first, M'sieu,--where is your heart, with savage or
Hudson's Bay?"
"Fair question, truly. I but now am started for yonder lodge on quest
of their deliverance, though without hope. Your appearance lends me
that."
"Sacre! 'Tis done already. Listen, M'sieu, with all your ears. Just
beyond earshot, up the river to the south there lies a big canoe, with
at its nose for instant action two men of Mowbray's brigade, while a
hundred yards inland another waits, armed and ready to cover a hurried
flight. There needs but loosing of those yonder, M'sieu, and here are
we. Two Indians pace the lodge.... You one, me one. What easier?
"Many things, my young hot-blood.
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