“They will convict?”
“Beyond doubt, Madame. They are La Barre’s men, and hold commission only at his pleasure. With M. de la Durantaye it is different, for he was soldier of Frontenac’s, yet I have no hope he will dare stand out against the rest. We must find another way to save the lad, but when I leave you at the door yonder I am out of it.”
“You, Monsieur! what can I hope to accomplish without your aid?”
“Far more than with it, especially if I furnish a good substitute. I shall be watched now, every step I take. ’Tis like enough De Baugis will send me challenge, though the danger that Cassion would do so is slight. It is the latter who will have me watched. No, Madame, Boisrondet is the lad who must find a way out for the prisoner; they will never suspicion him, and the boy will enjoy the trick. Tonight, when the fort becomes quiet, he will find way to explain his plans. Have your room dark, and the window open.”
“There is but one, Monsieur, outward, above the precipice.”
“That will be his choice; he can reach you thus unseen. ’Tis quite possible a guard may be placed at your door.”
He left me, and walked straight across the parade to his own quarters, an erect, manly figure in the sun, his long black hair falling to his shoulders. I drew a 335 chair beside the door, which I left partially open, so that I might view the scene without. There was no firing now, although soldiers were grouped along the western stockade, keeping guard over the gate. I sat there for perhaps an hour, my thoughts sad enough, yet unconsciously gaining courage and hope from the memory of De Tonty’s words of confidence. He was not a man to fail in any deed of daring, and I had already seen enough of this young Boisrondet, and heard enough of his exploits, to feel implicit trust in his plans of rescue. Occasionally a soldier of the garrison, or a courier du bois, of La Salle’s company, passed, glancing at me curiously, yet I recognized no familiar face, and made no attempt to speak, lest the man might prove an enemy. I could see the door of the guardhouse, and, at last, those in attendance at the trial emerged, talking gravely, as they scattered in various directions. The three officers came forth together, proceeding directly across toward De Tonty’s office, evidently with some purpose in view. No doubt, angered at his words, they sought satisfaction. I watched until they disappeared within the distant doorway, De Baugis the first to enter. A moment later one of the soldiers who had accompanied us from Quebec, a rather pleasant-faced lad, whose injured hand I had dressed at St. Ignace, approached where I sat, and lifted his hand in salute.
“A moment, Jules,” I said swiftly. “You were at the trial?”