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Pearse, who had taken Gillam's place at right half-back, misjudged the long, low kick, just managed to tip the ball with one outstretched hand as it went over his head, and so had to turn and chase it back to the goal-line. But Mason had seen the danger and was before him. Seizing the bouncing pigskin, he was able to reach the ten-yard line ere the Robinson right end bore him to earth.
Rigging up the remnants of his rickety ships for a convoy, he placed in them the majority of the Hudson's Bay Company and New England crews and sent them south to Rupert and Moose. Taking possession of Ben Gillam's ship, the Bachelor's Delight, he loaded it with a cargo of precious furs, and set out for Quebec with Bridgar and young Gillam as prisoners.
When it was over Neil declared the honors even, but Paul took a less optimistic view and would not be comforted. All the evening, save for a short period when he went upstairs to sympathize with Cowan, he bewailed his fate into Neil's ears. The latter tried his best to comfort him, and predicted that on Monday Paul would find himself in Gillam's place.
"'Twill be a pretty to-do of witchcraft to-morrow when they find a cell empty. Go hire passage to England in Captain Gillam's boat!" "Captain Gillam's boat?" "Yes, or Master Ben's pirate-ship of the north, if she's there," and he had dashed off in the dark. When Rebecca appeared above the cellar-way with a flagon that reamed to a beaded top, the keys were back on the wall.
"An your fine gentlemen grow rich that way, why mayn't I?" "Jack," I warned, thinking of Ben Gillam's craft rigged with sails of as many colours as Joseph's coat, "Jack is it a pirate-ship?" "No," laughed the sailor lad sheepishly, "'tis a pirateer," meaning thereby a privateer, which was the same thing in those days. "Have a care of your pirateers privateers, Jack," said I, speaking plain.
I knew knew the meaning of all M. Picot's questionings on the fur trade; of that murderous attack in the dark when an antagonist flung down his weapon; of the spying through the frosted woods; of the figures in the white darkness; of the attempt to destroy Ben Gillam's fort; of the rescue from the crest of the hill; and of all those strange delirious dreams.
"Hang me if I know how long that would be," laughed Gillam, half-puzzled, half-pleased with the Frenchman's darting wits. "Ben," begins M. Radisson, tapping the lace ruffle of Gillam's sleeve, "you must not fire those guns!" "No?" questions Gillam. "My officers are swashing young blades!
Then I called M. Radisson, who said it was Le Borgne, the wall-eyed Indian. Godefroy vowed 'twas a spy from Ben Gillam's fort. The Indian mumbled some superstition of a manitou. To me it seemed like a caribou; for it faded to nothing the way those fleet creatures have of skimming into distance. M. Radisson had reckoned well.
Indeed, I think if any tongue had wagged twice in Radisson's hearing he would have torn the offending member out. Doing as we were bid without question, we all filed down to the canoe. Less ice cumbered the upper current, and by the next day we were opposite Ben Gillam's New England fort. "La Chesnaye and Forêt will shoot partridges," commanded M. de Radisson.
And they embraced each other like spider and fly, each with a free hand to his sword-hilt, and a questioning look on the other's face. Says M. Radisson: "I've seen that ship before!" Ben laughs awkwardly. "We captured her from a Dutchman," he begins. "Oh!" says Sieur Radisson. "I meant outside the straits after the storm!" Gillam's eyes widen. "Were those your ships?" he asks. Then both men laugh.
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