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They ride north in the morning. I go too, with the devil and his wife! I be gone to the devil this many a while! But I must go, or they suspect and knife me. That vampire! Ha! she would drink my gore! I no more have nothing to do with you. Before morning, you must do your own do alone! Sacredie! Do not forget, I pay you back yet!" So he rattled on, ever keeping between me and the lodges.
"Sacredie!" he screamed, first pointing to the gathering storm and then to the crosses that marked the fate of other foolhardy voyageurs, "Allez si vous voulez! Pour moi je n'irai pas; ne voyez pas le danger!"
The footman closed the door noiselessly, and had no sooner done so than he was recalled by another impatient peal. "Here, Henri have you told Madame de Courcelles that this gentleman is also waiting to see her?" "Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte." "Eh bien?" "And Madame said she should be down in a few moments." "Sacredie! go back, then, and inquire if...." "Madame is here."
"Then the whisper you overheard" ... "Was only this: 'Look in the usual place, and you will find a letter. Not many words, mon cher, but confoundedly comprehensive! And I who believed that girl to be an angel of candor! I who was within an ace of falling seriously in love with her! Sacredie! what an idiot I have been!" He shook his head. "No," he said, gloomily, "I won't do that.
I was sitting with a group of men squatted before my fatherly Indian's lodge, when somebody walked up behind us and gave a long, low whistle. "Mon Dieu! Mine frien', the enemy! Sacredie! 'Tis he! Thou cock-brained idiot! Ho ho! Alone among the Sioux!" came the astonished, half-breathless exclamation of Louis Laplante, mixing his English and French as he was wont, when off guard.
"Sink his canoe," suggested one; and I saw that borrowed craft swamped. "Strike! Sacredie! I pay you back generous," roared Louis. "How can I, Louis Laplante, son of a seigneur, strike a man who won't hit back?" "And how can I strike a man who saved my life?" I urged, trying to mollify him. "See here, Louis, I'm on a message for my company to-night. I can't wait.
"I I have not observed Monsieur Lenoir sufficiently to to form an opinion," faltered Marie, ready to cry with vexation. Müller glared at her reproachfully, turned on his heel, and came over to where I was standing. "You saw how she blushed?" he said in a fierce whisper. "Sacredie! I'll bet my head she's an arrant flirt.
"But then, how juicy his oranges are!" exclaimed young Byzantine. "True and when you remember that he never washes !" "Ah, sacredie! yes there is the marvel!" And Monsieur Eugène Droz held up his hands and eyes with all the reverent admiration of a true believer for a particularly dirty dervish.
"Sacredie," said he, backing against Father Holland, "I am no murderer." It was then I observed that Frances Sutherland had followed me. Her slender white fingers were about the bronzed hand of the French adventurer. "Monsieur Laplante will tell us what he knows," she said softly, and she waited for his answer.
The police there were two of them, with their big cocked hats on their heads and their long sabres by their sides pushed through the circle of spectators. The first laid his hand on Müller's shoulder; the second was about to lay his hand on mine, but I drew back. "Which is the other?" said he, looking round. "Sacredie!" stammered the proprietor, "he was here there not a moment ago!"
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