“We waste toil, friends; the boat floats no more for all our labors.  Nor do I deem it the will of the Lord we longer continue to wear ourselves out in vain effort to undo His work.”

He wiped the beads of perspiration from his low forehead, pushing his hand through his matted hair.

“Were it not for the woman,” he added more cheerfully, “the accident would not be so bad either.  I am cramped by long boat service, and would welcome a stiff tramp to loosen out the joints of my legs.”

I glanced across uneasily at Madame, for we were all seated on the grass in the sunshine, but could perceive nothing except encouragement in the clear depths of her brave eyes.

“Fear nothing on my account,” she said quietly, instantly reading my thoughts as if my face were an open book.  “I am strong, and shall not greatly mind the walking.”

“At least you are strong of heart,” I returned gravely.  “But such a trip as now lies before us will test your power of endurance greatly.  Yet what must be done is best done quickly, and there are unpleasant memories clustering about this spot, making me anxious to leave it before another night.  Let each one speak frankly his thought as to our future course, so we may choose the route aright.  De Noyan, you are a soldier, accustomed to places of difficulty and peril.  What would you suggest?”

He was lying flat upon his back, hands clasped beneath his head, puffs of white smoke from his pipe curling lazily up into the blue sky; nor did he remove the stem from between his lips as he made easy answer.

“Faith, man, my service on campaign has ever been with the horse; nor am I fond of using my own limbs for travelling.  It would be far easier, I think, to knock up the old boat here; then, with whatsoever else we might find in this God-forsaken wilderness, construct some sort of raft to upbear our company, and so drift down with the stream. Parbleu! it would be a relief from those cursed oars.  If the load be too heavy, the preacher can be left behind; ’t would be small loss.”

“Your plan sounds bravely in words, Chevalier, but were we to attempt it, we should soon find ourselves in more serious stress than now,—­ay! before we had covered the first day’s journey.  My Calvinistic friend, what advice have you for our guidance?”

The sectary’s eyes were fastened upon the ragged line of hills at our back, and for the moment he made no response, his seamed face grave with thought.

“How far, Master Benteen,” he queried finally, “do you make it from here to the mouth of this river?”

“Not much short of sixty leagues,” I answered, after a bit of thinking.  “The stream bends and twists so it is difficult to judge the true distance.”

“It was a grievous journey,” he admitted with a groan, “one I care not to travel again, unless it be revealed plainly to me as the will of the Lord.  I name the distance full seventy leagues.  What has been the main direction of our course?”