“It was bad work, Menard, bad work. The worst thing La Grange did was to butcher the women and children. He was drunk at the time, and the worst of it was over before d’Orvilliers got wind of it. Do you know who is leading this war party?” 112
“The Long Arrow.”
“Oh, yes. A big fellow, with a rather noticeable wampum collar. He came to Frontenac as a Mission Indian, but got away before we suspected anything. Our scout told me that his son was in the party that was taken to the galleys. He’s been scouting along the river ever since. Likely as not he followed you down to Quebec. How many men have you now?”
“Five, and Father Claude.”
“He could shoot at a pinch, I suppose. I’ll let you have the best two I have, but––” Du Peron shrugged his shoulders––“you know the sort that are assigned for this transport work. They’re a bad lot at best. But they can shoot, and they hate the Iroquois, so you’re all right if you can keep them sober. That will make nine, with yourself,––it should be enough.”
“It will be enough. How is the transport moving?”
“Splendidly. Whatever we may say about the new Governor, our Intendant knows his business. I judge from the way he is stocking up Frontenac, that we are to use it as the base for a big campaign.”
“I suppose so. You will report, will you, at 113 Montreal, that we were safe at Rapide Flat? And if you find a coureur going down to Quebec, I wish you would send word to Provost that Mademoiselle St. Denis is well and in good spirits.”
The lieutenant looked curiously at the maid, who was walking with Father Claude near the canoe. Then the two officers shook hands, and in a few moments were going their ways, Menard with two villainous voyageurs added to his crew. That afternoon he passed the last rapid, and beached the canoe at La Gallette, thankful that nothing intervened between them and Fort Frontenac but a reach of still water and the twining channels of the Thousand Islands, where it would call for the sharpest eyes ever set in an Iroquois head to follow his movements.
They ate an early supper, and immediately afterward Father Claude slipped away. The maid looked after him a little wistfully, then she wandered to the bank, and found a mossy seat where she could watch the long rapid, with its driving, foaming current that dashed over the ledges and leaped madly around the jagged rocks. Menard set his men at work preparing the camp against attack. When this was well under way he called Danton, who was lying by 114 the fire, and spent an hour with him conversing in Iroquois. By that time the twilight was creeping down the river. Menard left the boy to form a speech in accord with Iroquois tradition, and went on a tour of inspection about the camp. The new men had swung thoroughly into the spirit of their work; one of them was already on guard a short way back in the woods. The other men were grouped in a cleared place, telling stories and singing.