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Updated: June 23, 2025
"Look, as they come closer now, you can see a fourth and a fifth head and then no more. Five swimming heads on the water must mean something, I hope; yet I'm afraid I hope too much." The foremost of the swimming figures raised a hand out of the water, and held it high in token of amity. Instantly the four behind did the same thing. "Most amazing," said Adolphe Drouillard.
They had their gay blades in New York and Albany and even a few in Boston of the Puritans, but he had not seen anybody like de Mézy. "It is such as he who are pulling down New France," murmured Father Drouillard. A moment or two later the priest said farewell and departed in the direction of the cathedral. "There goes a man," said Willet, as he looked after the tall figure in the black robe.
"This Timmendiquas, as you describe him, is a most formidable chief," said Adam Colfax, pondering, "and the renegade, Girty, too, is a very dangerous man. As I see that we shall have to fight them, I would spare this fleet further loss if I could." "We will have to fight," said Drouillard, "eef not to-night, then to-morrow, and eef not to-morrow, then next week."
The firing was succeeded by a few minutes of intense silence and then the great door of the Château de Chatillard opened again. Once more Father Drouillard stood on the step, holding a lamp in his hand. "It is over, Father," said Willet. "We've driven off part of 'em and the others lie here."
And yet another stood up and looked at Quebec, with emotions all his own, and unlike those of the three who were so young. Father Drouillard, tall in his black robe, gazed fixedly at the rock, and raised his hand in a gesture much like that with which he had cursed the chateau of Count Jean de Mézy.
Wyatt was compelled to give minute descriptions of Adam Colfax, Drouillard and the five, Henry Ware, Paul, Shif'less Sol, Tom Ross, and Long Jim. "We know him whom you call the Ware," said Timmendiquas with a sort of grim humor, "and we have seen his strength and speed. Although but a boy in years, he is already a great warrior. He is the one whom you hate the most, is he not?"
The great river spread before them, blue now under a dazzling blue sky, and the stout Frontenac left a long white trailing wake. A stone house, larger than usual, showed through the green foliage on the south bank. Father Drouillard gazed at it, and his face darkened. Presently he arose and shook his hand towards the house, as if he were delivering a curse.
Old Drouillard the hunter had argued with them in the sign language and with a few Shoshoni words that he knew. It had looked like war it had looked like peace and it had looked like war, and death, again.
This is a prisoner of great value and I must use him as a pawn in the game of war. He was taken fairly and I cannot give him up." Again Father Drouillard sighed, and this time heavily. "I would save you from captivity, Mr. Lennox," he said, "but, as you see, I cannot." Robert was much moved. "I thank you, Father Drouillard, for your kind intentions," he said.
It was well for them to take long and anxious thought, and to listen with attention to what the orators of the English and the French would have to say. Then Father Drouillard spoke for France. He made an impressive figure, wrapped in his black robe, his eyes burning like coals of fire in his thin, dead white face.
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