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The thought of the bridge, of Marchand's devilish design, shot into his mind, and once more he was shaken. "The bridge! Blind! Mother!" he called in a voice twisted in an agony which only those can feel to whom life's purposes are even more than life itself. Then, with a moan, he became unconscious, and his head rolled over against Rockwell's cheek.
As for the rest, 'tis in the domain of history; every phase of it has been put on record: Delessart worried in his mind that he had not been able to obey Général Marchand's orders and destroy the bridge of Ponthaut his desire to communicate once more with the General; his decision to await further orders and in the meanwhile to occupy the narrow defile of Laffray as being an advantageous position wherein to oppose the advance of the ogre: all this on the one side.
On the 1st of August the entrance into a broad inlet was discovered, into which the current ran very rapidly. The opening of this inlet was known before, and is indeed laid down in the charts attached to Marchand's Voyage round the World; but Kotzebue is certainly the first person who explained it.
He unloaded his secret information to his friend, and was rewarded by Ingolby suddenly shaking his hand warmly. "That's the line," Ingolby said decisively. "When do you go over to Manitou again to cut old Hector Marchand's hair? Soon?" "To-day is his day this evening," was the reply. "Good. You wanted to know what the wig and the habitant's clothes are for, Berry well, for me to wear in Manitou.
"Got the strength of two, for a drunk man weighs twice as heavy as a sober one!" exclaimed another admiringly. "Marchand's game is up on the Sagalac," declared a third decisively. The excitement was so great, however, that only a very few of them knew what they were saying, and fewer still knew that Dennis Doane had risked his life to save the man he had been stalking for weeks past.
"He'll burn to death but yes, burn to death." In agitation Fleda hastened to where the stranger stood shaking old Gautry. "There's a man asleep inside the house," she said to the stranger, and then all at once she realized who he was. It was Dennis Doane, whose wife was staying in Gabriel Druse's home: it was the husband of Marchand's victim. "A man in there, is there?" exclaimed Dennis.
Barbazon asked, his beady eyes fastened on Marchand's face. "Something worth while-better than all the rest." Barbazon's low forehead seemed to disappear almost, as he drew the grizzled shock of hair down, by wrinkling his forehead with a heavy frown. "It's no damn good, m'sieu'," he growled. "Am I a fool?
He takes a lot of skinning, that badger." "He's skinned this time all right," was Marchand's reply. "To-morrow'll be the biggest day Manitou's had since the Indian lifted his wigwam and the white man put down his store. Listen hear them! They're coming!" He raised a hand for silence, and a rumbling, ragged roar of voices could be heard without. "The crowd have gone the rounds," he continued.
"That cannot be," she cried; "you may do what you please with our belongings and with Captain Marchand's ship, but my husband is too sick a man to walk a plank. You have not noticed, perchance, that his legs are so feeble that he could scarce mount from the cabin to the deck.
Ingolby's eyes opened wide when he saw Marchand's ugly game. He loathed the dissolute fellow, but he realized now that his foe was a factor to be reckoned with, for Marchand had plenty of money as well as a bad nature. He saw he was in for a big fight with Manitou, and he had to think it out. So this time he went pigeon-shooting. He got his pigeons, and the slaughter did him good.
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