“Then let us get ready some breakfast for you,” proposed Tonty, as his men entered with the lading of the canoe. They had stopped at the doorstep, but Father Hennepin’s hewed log house contained two rooms, and he pointed them to the inner one. There they let down their loads, one man, a surgeon, remaining, and the other, a canoeman, going out again in search of fuel.
“Monsieur, it would be better for us to hurry back to the fortress and call my uncle La Salle.”
“Nothing will satisfy you, mademoiselle,” denounced Colin. “Out you must come to stop Monsieur de Tonty. Now back you must go through weather which is not fitting for any demoiselle to face.”
“Mademoiselle,” said Tonty, “if you return now it will be my duty to escort you as far as the fortress gate.”
Barbe drew her wrappings over her face, as he had seen a wild sensitive plant fold its leaves and close its cups.
“I will retire to the chapel and wait there until my uncle La Salle comes,” she decided, “and my brother must run to call him.”
“You may take to sanctuary as soon as you please,” responded Colin, “and I will attend to my uncle La Salle’s business. But the first call I make shall be upon the cook in this camp.”