“You are sure of yourself, Danton? sure that you have not made a mistake?”
“A mistake?” The boy looked up wildly. “I was––shall I tell you, M’sieu?––I left the camp to-night with the thought that I should never go back.”
Menard looked at him curiously.
“What did you plan to do?”
“I didn’t know,––I don’t know now. Back to Montreal, perhaps to the Iroquois. I don’t care where.”
“You did not bring your musket. It would hardly be safe.”
“Safe!” There was weary contempt in the boy’s voice. He sat up, and made an effort to steady himself, leaning back upon his hands. “I should not say this. It was what I thought at first. I am past it now; I can think better. 105 It was only your coming,––when I first saw you, it came rushing back, and I wanted to––oh, what is the use? You do not know. You cannot understand.”
“And now?”
“Now, Captain, I ask for a release. Let me go back to Montreal.”
“How would you go? You have no canoe.”