“It is not anything to eat, Colin—it is pressing need of my uncle La Salle!”
“The Abbé has pressing need of our uncle La Salle. It was great relief to catch him here at Frontenac. I have heard every bit of the lecture: what amounts our uncle the Abbé has ventured in western explorations; and what a fruitless journey he has made here to rescue for himself some of the stores of this fortress; and what danger all we Caveliers stand in of being poisoned on account of my uncle La Salle, so that the Abbé can scarce trust us out of his sight, even with nuns guarding you.”
To Barbe’s continued knocking her guardian made the curtest reply. He opened the door, looked at her sternly, saying, “Go away, mademoiselle,” and shut it tightly again.
She ran back to her lookout and was able to discern the same canoe moving off on the lake.
“Colin,” demanded Barbe, wrapping herself, “You must run with me.”
“Certainly, mademoiselle, and I trust you are making haste toward a table.”
“We must run outside the fortress.”
Though the boy felt it a grievance that he should follow instead of lead to any adventure, he dashed heartily out with her, intending to take his place when he understood the action. Rain charged full in their faces. The sentry was inclined to hold them at the fortress gate until he had orders, and Barbe’s impatience darted from her eyes.
“You will get me into trouble,” he said. “This gate has been swinging over-much lately.”