With this thought in mind, I ran hastily across the open parade into the officers’ mess-hall, hoping I might find him loitering there.  To my hasty glance, the place appeared deserted; and I drew back, wondering where to turn next in search.  As I hesitated on the threshold, the low voice of Mademoiselle fell upon my ear; and at that moment she emerged from behind the curtain which divided the officers’ quarters.

“May I hope you are seeking me?” she asked, graciously; “for it has been most lonely here all day,—­even Captain de Croix seems to have forgotten my existence.”

“It was De Croix I sought,” I answered, somewhat nettled by her prompt reference to him; “and doubtless you are well able to give me trace of him.”

She studied me keenly, marking an angry note in my voice that I sought vainly to disguise.

“Forever a quarrel?” she said, regretfully.  “Do you know, Master Wayland, I had thought better of you.  Surely it is not your nature to be a brawler, and always seeking opportunity to show the strong hand!  What has Captain de Croix done now to make you seek him so vengefully?”

“’T is not in quarrel,” I explained,—­I fear with ill grace, for her words in his defence were little inclined to mollify me.  “You may indeed have so poor conception of me as to misinterpret my coming; yet in truth I seek De Croix in friendship, hoping that I may by a chance word serve him.”

“Indeed! what danger threatens, that he needs to be warned against?”

I hesitated; for, now that my blood had somewhat cooled, my mission seemed a bit foolish.

“I insist upon knowing,” she continued haughtily, her eyes full upon mine, “or I shall believe you sought him for hostile purpose, and would deceive me by fair words.”

“Mademoiselle,” I answered gravely, “you do me wrong.  Only a few moments ago I chanced to overhear a discussion, by the officers of this Fort, regarding a commission to go forth and hold council with the Indians.  Captain Heald is determined upon such a course; but none will volunteer to accompany him, because of the grave danger of savage treachery.  The Frenchman’s name was mentioned as one reckless enough to join with such a party; and I sought to warn him ere he accepted blindly.  He is hardly a friend of mine,—­yet it seems no more than fair that he should know the full measure of his peril before saying ‘yes.’”

She came impulsively forward, with quickly extended hand, her face aglow.

“You are indeed a true heart, John Wayland, and have shamed me rightly.  I know well the deceit and treachery of Indian nature, and can understand the peril such a party would run.  Promise me that you will prevent Captain de Croix from becoming one of them.”

“I?” I exclaimed in perplexed surprise; “I can do no more than warn him.”

“But you must do more!” she cried imperatively.  “He will surely go if asked.  A warning such as you propose would only stir his blood.  I beg you to use your wits a little, so that he may know nothing of it.”