"O my people," boomed a harsh voice in the Cahnuaga dialect, "verily Ha-ne-go-ate-geh has claimed you! You are mad! You toy with your enemies here when the warriors of the Long House are as thick along the Doom Trail as the falling leaves of Autumn. The Keepers who were on watch are dead or in flight. At any minute the Iroquois will be here. They have burned Ga-o-no-geh. The snow of the Trail is trampled flat by their multitudes. Aye, the Doom Trail is bringing doom upon its Keepers."
The tall, severe figure of Black Robe pushed through the surrounding masses of renegades until he had reached Marjory's side.
"What have they done to you, my daughter?" he asked kindly, his tone changing as if by magic. "I was led away by a false story."
She pointed down at the corpses of Ga-ha-no and de Veulle. Père Hyacinthe made the sign of the cross and muttered a brief prayer.
"Providence works mysteriously," he sighed. "Once I trusted this man—" and he swung around with stern hostility upon Murray—"and this one here. Now I think I know them for what they were, servants of evil who employed the force of God's holy Word in the furtherance of their own wicked plans.
"France is great, my daughter. France has a destiny before her. But her greatness and her destiny may not be reached through by-paths of sin and evil-doing."
He would have said more, but Murray intervened.
"I will answer your personal comments at a future time, sir," he said; "but do I understand you to say that the Doom Trail has been penetrated by the Iroquois?"
"They are almost at your door," replied Black Robe sternly.
"'Sdeath!" swore Murray. "This is too much!"