“It points that way, Father.”
“Then let us take another case. Suppose that you succeed at the council, that you are released. Then if the Governor should disclaim responsibility, should––”
“Then, Father, I will go to La Grange and make him fight me. I mean to pledge my word to these chiefs. You know what that means.”
“Yes,” replied the priest, “yes.” He seemed puzzled and unsettled by some thought that held his mind. He walked slowly about, looking at the ground. Menard, too, was restless. He rose from the stone and tossed away the 199 pebbles that had supported the cup, one at a time.
“They are singing again,” he said, listening to the droning chant that came indistinctly through the dark. “One would think they would long ago have been too drunk to stand. How some of these recruits the King sends over to us would envy them their stomachs.”
The priest made no reply. He did not understand the impulse that led the Captain to speak irrelevantly at such a moment.
“I suppose the doctors are dancing now,” Menard continued. “It may be that they will come here. If they do, we shall have a night of it.”
“We will hope not, M’sieu.”
“If they should, Father,––well, it is hard to know just what to do.”
“You were thinking––?”