[VI.]
LA SALLE AND TONTY.
When one of the men had been called from the mission house to stand guard, they came directly into the chapel, preferring to talk there in the presence of Barbe.
La Salle kissed her hand and her cheek, and she sat down before the fire, spreading the buffalo skin under her feet.
As embers sunk and the talk of the two men went on, she crept as low as this shaggy carpet, resting arms and head upon the bench. The dying fire made exquisite color in this dismal chapel.
“The governor’s man, when he arrived to seize Fort St. Louis, gave you my letter of instructions, Tonty?”
“Yes, Monsieur de la Salle.”
“Then, my lad, why have you abandoned the post and followed me? You should have stayed to be my representative. They have Frontenac. Crévecœur was ruined for us. If they get St. Louis of the Illinois entirely into their hands they will claim the whole of Louisiana, these precious Associates.”
Tonty, laying his sound arm across his commandant’s shoulder, exclaimed, “Monsieur, I have followed you five hundred leagues to drag that rascal Jolycœur back with me. He told at Fort St. Louis that this should be your last journey.”
La Salle laughed.