Le Moyne had at once recognized the voice of his beloved and long-lost pupil, and with hands trembling with eager excitement, he hastened to throw wide open the shutter and assist him to enter by the window.  When he had got him safely inside he embraced the lad fervently, and kissed him on both cheeks.  Then he said, “Thy uncle has been ill and is still weak; but if thy business is indeed as urgent as thou representest, I will instantly acquaint him with thy presence.  I must, however, break the glad tidings gently and gradually to him, for fear of the effect of an overdose of joy.”

So the good man shuffled away in his loose slippers towards the room in which Laudonniere lay, and without his knowledge, Rene followed him closely.

In the commandant’s room Le Moyne began with,

“Monsieur, I have a message from the dead.”

“Ay, thou wert always a dreamer,” replied the sick man, testily.

“Nay, but this time it is no dream, but a living reality.”

“Then the dead have come to life, and thou hast had dealings not with them, but with the living.”

“It is even so, and he is one very dear to thee, whom thou hast deemed lost.”

“What sayest thou?” cried the old chevalier, sitting up in bed in his excitement.  “One dear to me, whom I deemed lost, and is now restored?  It can be none other than Rene, my son.  Where is he?  Why tarries he from me?”

“He tarries not, uncle!” exclaimed a glad voice at the door, and in another moment uncle and nephew were locked in a close embrace, while sympathetic tears of joy stood in the eyes of the good Le Moyne.

As briefly as possible, and reserving the details for another occasion, Rene told his uncle that he had visited the land of the Alachuas, and had returned with twelve canoe-loads of corn, for which he had promised in his name twelve packages of trinkets such as he described, and the safe dismissal of their escort from the fort.  He added that those who had come with him wished to depart that very night, and even now awaited him at the water gate.

“Alas!” exclaimed Laudonniere, when this had been told him, “I have no longer the power to make good thy word.  While I have lain here as helpless as one struck with a palsy, another has assumed command; for know thou, my dear lad, that Fort Caroline and all it contains has passed into the hands of a body of mutineers, headed by none other than thy old friend Simon, the armorer.  Go thou to him, and I doubt not he will treat with these friends of thine even as thou hast promised; for provisions such as thou sayest await even now an entrance to the fort are too rare a commodity within its walls to be scorned, even by mutineers.  But, lad, return to me as speedily as may be, for the sight of thy brave face is as balm to the wounded, and thine absence has distressed me beyond that I can express.”

So Rene departed in search of Simon, the armorer, and by his sudden appearance so frightened the old soldier that for some moments he could do nothing but stare, speechless, with a mixture of terror and amazement.