"He is not at the fort."
"Shall we follow on?"
Destournier nodded.
They heard a step crunching over the snow and waited breathlessly.
It was Jacques Roleau they saw as he came in sight, one of the workmen at the fort. He gestured to them that all was right.
"They have fled, what was left of them," he explained. "I despatched two wounded Iroquois that they had left behind. There are two of our men that they must have made prisoners, the M'sieu at the fort who has the pretty wife, and young Chauvin"—and he paused, as if there was more to say.
"Wounded?"
He shook his head sadly.
"Dead?" Destournier's breath came with a gasp.
"Both dead, M'sieu, but strange, neither has been scalped."