“All in good time,” and Crawford, with a whimsical laugh, waved his hand. “Will you accept a seat at my fire? I want to finish my smoke, and must keep an eye on this red rascal lest he come awake and knife me unexpectedly.”
“I have not thanked you for your mercy to him,” said Bienville, reluctantly seating himself. “It was well done, monsieur. I should have been sorry to pistol you had you slain him, for he is a great man among the Abnakis. By what miracle did you escape his knife? I saw the blow fall full——”
Crawford filled and lighted his pipe with a brand, then put a hand to his shirt and through the gaping rent showed the glittering Star of Dreams, now marked with a dent in the soft virgin gold, and Bienville exclaimed at the smear of blood.
“It’s nothing—a scrape of the skin,” said Crawford lightly. He was fighting for time now, knowing well that he had a young lion to deal with if he made one false move. “It was a stroke of ill-luck that made your Abnaki recognize that pipe. I helped myself from Saint-Castin’s mantel rack, never dreaming that one pipe was more than another.”
Bienville laughed boyishly.
“I should have liked to hear Saint-Castin curse when he discovered which one you had taken! Then you have come by way of Placentia, eh? Heard you anything of the fleet from France? My brother Serigny was to bring a fleet which the king promised to give Pierre——”
Crawford remembered the French sail of the line they had raised off the Banks.
“The ships are at Placentia now,” he said, “though my message does not deal with them. But your pardon, monsieur. My name is Crawford, and I was formerly an officer of his Majesty of St. Germains. At present I am following my star of destiny. The Irish gentleman whom you just now beheld is an old friend——”
At this instant the Abnaki chief uttered a low groan and moved slightly. Crawford swiftly turned, picked up some of the rags that the Irish had discarded, and with these he knelt above the chief, binding the latter firmly and gagging him to boot. A crunch of snow caused him to look up—and he saw a tall figure come into the circle of light.
“Ten thousand devils!” exclaimed a rich, vibrant voice. “What’s this, Bienville? You and the chief flitting off after dark—who is this man?”