And I repeated to him, briefly, what had transpired since Awa proudly led his warriors into the circle around the torture-stake. A frown clouded the Jesuit's eyes, mouth formed a grim, hard line.
"What blasphemy is this?" he interrupted. "Man, would you mock the authority of heaven? You are no more messengers of the divine will than these savages themselves!"
"How can you be sure!" I asked.
"How can I——"
He paused abruptly, frowning in thought.
"Is it coincidence," I continued quickly, "that when you climbed the Mississippi bluff I would not let my companions kill you, as they desired—and for the matter of that, is it coincidence that once before the time of which I speak, I saved you from them, ay, and from the wrath of the Long House? Is it coincidence that we were the means of your passing the Mississippi, and that now we and you, alike in danger of death, are saved by the interlinking facts of our separate captivities!
"Ponder it, Père Hyacinthe! Where does coincidence begin and Providence end? Are you so wise that you can say what Heaven intends? Can you afford to throw away the life that has been returned to you? Have you the right to sacrifice four other people's lives? How do you know that what has happened today was not for the purpose of giving you another opportunity to preach your creed?"
He hesitated, head bowed.
"Go!" I said, honestly stirred. "Say what you please! I could stop you, but I will not take the responsibility of interfering with another man's sense of honor. I will leave with you the lives of my comrades."
He looked at me, puzzled, uncertain.