And so they remained concealed among the alders whilst the shadows turned from short to long, and the white drifting clouds above them were tinged with the pink of the setting sun.  Du Lhut coiled himself into a ball with his pipe between his teeth and dropped into a light sleep, pricking up his ears and starting at the slightest sound from the woods around them.  The two Americans whispered together for a long time, Ephraim telling some long story about the cruise of the brig Industry, bound to Jamestown for sugar and molasses, but at last the soothing hum of a gentle breeze through the branches lulled them off also, and they slept.  De Catinat alone remained awake, his nerves still in a tingle from that strange sudden shadow which had fallen upon his soul.  What could it mean?  Not surely that Adele was in danger?  He had heard of such warnings, but had he not left her in safety behind cannons and stockades?  By the next evening at latest he would see her again.  As he lay looking up through the tangle of copper leaves at the sky beyond, his mind drifted like the clouds above him, and he was back once more in the jutting window in the Rue St. Martin, sitting on the broad bancal, with its Spanish leather covering, with the gilt wool-bale creaking outside, and his arm round shrinking, timid Adele, she who had compared herself to a little mouse in an old house, and who yet had courage to stay by his side through all this wild journey.  And then again he was back at Versailles.  Once more he saw the brown eyes of the king, the fair bold face of De Montespan, the serene features of De Maintenon—­ once more he rode on his midnight mission, was driven by the demon coachman, and sprang with Amos upon the scaffold to rescue the most beautiful woman in France.  So clear it was and so vivid that it was with a start that he came suddenly to himself, and found that the night was creeping on in an American forest, and that Du Lhut had roused himself and was ready for a start.

“Have you been awake?” asked the pioneer.

“Yes.”

“Have you heard anything?”

“Nothing but the hooting of the owl.”

“It seemed to me that in my sleep I heard a gunshot in the distance.”

“In your sleep?”

“Yes, I hear as well asleep as awake and remember what I hear.  But now you must follow me close, and we shall be in the fort soon.”

“You have wonderful ears, indeed,” said De Catinat, as they picked their way through the tangled wood.  “How could you hear that these men were following us to-day?  I could make out no sound when they were within hand-touch of us.”

“I did not hear them at first.”

“You saw them?”

“No, nor that either.”

“Then how could you know that they were there?”

“I heard a frightened jay flutter among the trees after we were past it.  Then ten minutes later I heard the same thing.  I knew then that there was some one on our trail, and I listened.”