“We must think now,” Menard said abruptly; “we must put our wits together. It is late in the night, and we should be free before dawn. Have you thought of any way?”
“Yes,” replied the priest, slowly, “we have thought of one. Teganouan is with our party. At the first he tried to keep out of sight, but of course he could not, once we were on the way. He was a long time at the Mission of St. Francis, and I at one time hoped that he would prove a true believer. It was drink that led him away from us,––an old weakness with him. This morning, when he passed me, I knew that he was ashamed. I dared not speak 324 to him; but since then, whenever my eyes have met his, I have seen that look of understanding.”
“I fear you will not see it to-night,” said the Captain. “They are drinking.”
“Ah, but he is not. He is guarding the hut. Come, M’sieu, it may be that we can see him now.”
Menard rose, and with the priest peered through the cracks at the rear of the hut. After a moment they saw him, standing in the shadow of a tree.
“You are sure it is he, Father?”
“Ah, M’sieu, I should know him.”
Menard rested his hand on a strip of rotting bark in the wall. The priest saw the movement.
“Yes,” he said cautiously, “it would be very simple. But you will be cautious, M’sieu. Of course, I do not know––I cannot tell surely––and yet it must be that Teganouan still has a warm heart. It cannot be that he has forgotten the many months of my kindness.”
While they stood there, hesitating between a dozen hasty plans, a light step sounded, and in an instant their eyes were at the opening. A second Indian had joined the guard, and was 325 talking with him in a low voice. Father Claude gripped the Captain’s arm.