And Dick's comment finally proved to John that between them these two years had fixed a gulf impassable. "Well, and you ought to respect her wishes," he said. "She interfered to save you, if ever a woman saved a man." He was striding to and fro again on the bank. "And what will you do now?" he demanded, halting suddenly.
"The General thinks Murray will be the new Governor, and promises to recommend me to him. There's work to be done in reducing the outlying French forts and bringing the Indians to reason. Probably I shall be sent west."
"You mean to live your life out in Canada?" "I do."
"Tell me at least that you have given up hope of this girl."
John flushed. "I shall never seek her," he answered. "But while life lasts I shall not give up hope of seeing her once again."
"And I am waiting for my captaincy," said Dick grimly; "who with less than half your luck would have commanded a regiment!"
He swung about suddenly to confront a corporal—John's critical friend of the picket—who had come up the bank seeking him.
"Beg pardon, sir," said the corporal, saluting, "but there's a Canadian below that has found a corpse along-shore, and wants to bury him on his own account."
"That will be Bateese Guyon," said John. They walked together down the shore to the spot where Bateese bent over his brother.
"This is the man," said he, "who led us through the Roches Fendues. Respect his dead body, Dick."