Chaumonot was accompanied by Father Dablon, the Black Kettle,—­now famous among his Onondaga brothers as the one who had crossed the evil waters, and two friendly Oneida chiefs.  There ensued a prodigious harangue; but at the close of it the smile on Chaumonot’s face signified that he had won his argument.

“You are free, my sons,” he said.  “It took some time to find you, but there is nothing like perseverance in a good cause.  At dawn you will return with me to Onondaga.  Monsieur,” addressing the Chevalier; “and how is the health of Monsieur le Marquis, your kind father?”

The smile died from the Chevalier’s face.  “Monsieur le Marquis is at Quebec; I can not say as regards his health.”

“In Quebec?”

“Yes, Father,” Victor interposed.

“How did you know that we were here ?” asked the vicomte.

“Pauquet, in his wanderings, finally arrived at Onondaga two weeks ago.  Upon hearing his story I at once began a search.  We are virtually at peace with the Senecas and the Oneidas.”

“And . . . the women?” inquired Victor, his heart’s blood gushing to his throat.

The two Jesuits solemnly shook their heads.

Victor laid his head against the Chevalier’s arm to hide the bitter tears.

“No sign?” asked the Chevalier calmly.  All the joy of the rescue was gone.

“None.  They were taken by a roving band of Senecas, of whom nothing has been heard.  They are not at the Senecas’ chief village.”

However great the vicomte’s disappointment may have been, his face remained without any discernible emotion.  But he turned to D’Herouville, his tone free from banter and his dark eyes full of menace: 

“Monsieur le Comte, you and I shall soon straighten out our accounts.”

“For my part, I would it were to-morrow.  Our swords will be given back to us.  Take heed, Vicomte,” holding out a splendid arm, as if calling the vicomte’s attention to it.

The vicomte twisted his shoulder and made a grimace.  “I will kill you as certainly as we stand here.  It is written.  And after you . . .”

D’Herouville could not piece together this broken sentence.

Four days later, the first of October, they came to the mission.  The lake of Onondaga lay glittering in the sunshine, surrounded by green valleys, green hills, and crimsoning forests.  As they arrived at the palisade and fort, Du Puys, sighting them, fired a salute of welcome.  The echoes awoke, and hurried to the hills and back again with thrilling sound.  The deer lifted his lordly antlers and trembled; the bear, his jaws dripping with purloined honey, flattened his ears restlessly; the dozing panther opened his eyes, yellow and round as a king’s louis; and from the dead arms of what was once a kingly pine, the eagle rose and described circles as he soared heavenward.  The gaze of the recent captives roved.  Here were fruitful valley and hill; pine,