Adam Colfax glanced up at the water which was falling in sheets and laughed, a laugh of genuine relief from a great strain.

“Why, Henry,” he said, “I don’t believe that a man could keep his feet out there in all that pelting flood long enough to go many miles.  I wish I was always as safe from attack as I feel now.”

It was certainly far more comfortable in the boats than it could possibly be in the sodden forest, where little lakes were already forming.  In addition, night, very dark, was coming on, and no cessation of the rain was promised.  It was useless, in the face of the deluge, to attempt to build fires on the shore, and huddling in the boats under tarpaulins, sails, and blankets, they ate cold food.  But Adam Colfax, as a precaution, allowed a little brandy to be served to every man.

“It’s medicine in this case, boys,” he said, “and you must look on it so.  I don’t think you’ll get any more.”

Bye and bye the rain slackened a little.  Some one began a line of a song, but it did not catch.  Nobody joined in, and the singer stopped.  The atmosphere was not favorable to any kind of music.  The hours passed slowly, but it was nearly midnight when the rain ceased, and a timid moon came out to cast a few pale rays over a soaked and dripping forest.  Most of the men were now asleep under their covers, but not one of the five slumbered, nor did Adam Colfax and a dozen others.

“Thank God, it’s stopped at last!” said Adam Colfax devoutly—­he was a religious man, and his gratitude was not merely oral.  “The clouds are clearing away and I think we can soon see where we are.”

“Yes, it will be much lighter soon,” said Henry Ware, “but in the meantime we are about to receive a visitor.  Look!”

He pointed down the bayou toward the river.  A light canoe was emerging from the mists and shadows.  It contained a single occupant, and came straight on up the narrow channel.

The man who sat in the canoe was tall and thin and wrapped in a dripping black robe.  His head was bare and his gray hair fell in long, straight locks.  The moonlight fell directly upon his thin, ascetic face, and something in the eyes that Adam Colfax saw, or thought he saw, sent a thrill through him.

“Is it a ghost?” he asked of Henry Ware in an awed whisper.

At that moment the moonlight shifted and fell upon something metallic that gleamed upon the breast of the mystic visitor.

“It is Father Montigny,” said Henry.  He, too, felt awe, not at any ghostly apparition but because the priest had come suddenly at such a time.

“What does it portend?” was his silent thought.

Paddling with a strong hand the priest came straight toward them.  The moonlight continued to shine upon his face, and Henry thought that he read there the impulse of a great mission.

CHAPTER XX

THE BATTLE OF THE BAYOU