"Not for ransom," said the chief, with a dogged emphasis.
I opened my eyes wide. "You astonish me!" said I. "Then how will they profit you? If you wanted their scalps, those you might have taken at Annapolis."
At that word, revealing that I knew whence they came, I took note of a stir in the silent figure beneath the maple. I felt that her eyes were watching me from behind that sumptuous veil which her bound hands could not put aside. I went on, with a sudden sense of exaltation.
"Give me these prisoners," I urged, half pleading, half commanding. "They are useless to you except for ransom. I will give you more than any one else will give you. Tell me your price."
But the savage was obstinate.
"Not for ransom," he repeated, shaking his head.
"You are afraid of your priest," said I, with slow scorn. "He has told you to bring them to him. And what will you get? A pistole or two for each! But I will give you gold, good French crowns, ten times as much as you ever got before!"
As I spoke, one of the listening savages got up, his eyes a-sparkle with eagerness, and muttered something in Micmac, which I could not understand. But the chief turned upon him so angrily that he slunk back, abashed.
"Agree with me now," I said earnestly. "Then wait here till I fetch the gold, and I will deliver it into your hands before you deliver the captives."
But the chief merely turned aside with an air of settling the question, and repeated angrily:—