"Impossible, Monsieur Corlaer. For I have set out to plant a mission among the Abenakis. They asked for a missionary. Our guides deserted us, and we have wandered off our course and been obliged to throw away nearly all the furniture of our mission. But we now hope to make our way along the coast."
"Father Jogues, the Abenakis are all gone northward. We passed through their towns on the Penobscot."
"But they will come back?"
"Some time, though no man at Penobscot would be able to say when."
Father Jogues' perplexed brows drew together. Wanderings, hunger, and imprisonment he could bear serenely as incidents of his journey. But to have his flock scattered before he could reach it was real calamity.
"We must make shift to follow them," he said.
"How will you follow them without supplies, and without knowing where they may turn in the woods?"
"I see we shall have to wait for them at Penobscot," said Father Jogues.
"Take a heretic's advice instead. For I speak not as the enemy of your religion when I urge you to journey with me back to Montreal. You can make another and better start to establish this mission."
The priest shook his head.