"Bon, bon, bon! I go. Pray for me!"
And Father Duval departed on his great mission.
After forty-eight hours of—for Hector—intense anxiety, Father Duval returned, victorious.
"I saw every-one, Bear Tooth an' all," the priest told Hector. "I talk joost as we agree, you an' me. We are not yet escap' from de wood, vous-comprenez: mais, le bon Dieu, 'e as bless our effort, oui! You go yourself now to Bear Tooth! You see."
"Father," said Hector, "the country owes you a great debt—"
"Could I leave mes enfants to go stray at de word of fools an' demons?"
In the meantime, things were marching steadily to a climax in the field. The number of rebels had increased. The Mounted Police had been driven out of their northerly posts. Troops were moving steadily Westward, from all Canada, to reinforce the little bands of settlers and Police in whose hands the safety of the country rested.
Would they be in time? Heaven alone knew.
In Broncho, Colonel Stern was organizing a column to co-operate with the soldiers when they arrived. Hector longed to be with him, so that he might bear an active part in the operations. But he could not leave the reserve without orders. To leave it at that moment, in any case, would have been madness. The cauldron, despite Bear Tooth's pledge, was still bubbling. The dashing, brilliant role was not for Hector; his was the harder, less attractive part of mounting guard. Fate was cheating him out of the glorious opportunity of a lifetime. But he was too good a soldier to complain.
Suddenly came splendid news—a letter from Colonel Stern, 'through the usual channels,' offering Hector command of the body of scouts then in process of formation for work in the Broncho column.