"So the Natchez did that!" the breath hissing between my teeth. "Where was their gentle-hearted Queen?"
"I know not, Monsieur, if they have a Queen. I saw none exercising authority excepting priests of their strange worship. It was the chief priest who held me in the flame."
I crushed back the hot, useless words burning on my lips, and turned to look at the Puritan. We had conversed in English, and he must have comprehended every word, yet there was no softening in the glint of his hard, gray eyes.
"Hear you the priest's story, sirrah?" I asked, feeling strong inclination to vent my spleen on him for such bull-headedness. "Is he not one to honor rather than pick a quarrel with in such place as this?"
"'T is no quarrel I seek, nor am I like to question the fanatical courage of a Jesuit. But I tell you his teaching is false, an outrage on the true religion of the saints, and I am of a strain which can never companion with any of that black-robed breed. Call me what ye please, Master Benteen, but I am too old a man, too long indoctrined in the faith, ever to acknowledge brotherhood with hirelings of the Romish church."
"Companion with whom you please," I retorted savagely. "But I tell you this, preacher, and once for all,—you 'll bear yourself like a human being to this poor lad while I 'm with you, or else make answer to me. Is that plain? I care nothing for your dogma, or your hair-splitting, but I know what fair play is between man and man,—ay, and mean to have it here, even if it costs you a split head."
"I beg you will both be at peace, Messieurs," broke in the soft, caressing voice at my elbow. "There can be no cause for comrades quarrelling over me. I am not worthy a ruptured friendship. Yet I fail to understand any occasion for your seeming trouble; has the older man some reason to distrust my robe?"
"Reason! Saint George! 'tis precious little that ever bothers him. The fellow is a Puritan preacher—of the same breed as the Huguenots—and possesses a head as hard as an oaken plank."
I nearly laughed at the unrestrained expression of aversion which swept the girlish face. An instant the black eyes lost their gentleness, the thin fingers clutched the silver cross.
"Mother of God! a heretic! a preacher of that doctrine! Never before have I met his kind, nor do I care now to make close acquaintance. A Puritan! Sainte Marie, have mercy! Yet surely in such stress as this we may for the time overlook our differences in faith, and be as men together? Is it not God's will? But I know little of conditions. Is there some path open for escape from here? Then will I let this Puritan be, save for a prayer to the Virgin."