“Oh, I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“Your mother did it when she was a girl.”

“But the young men may find it out and follow.”

“Then we’ll run.”

“I’m afraid to go so far in the dark.”

“What, to the old Jesuit College?”

“It isn’t very dark, and our old Dinah will go with us; she’s waiting outside the fence.”

“But my father says none of our Indians are to be trusted in the dark.”

“What a slander on our Indians!”

“But some of them are here; they always come to the St. John bonfire.”

“All the men in Kaskaskia are here, too.  We could easily give an alarm.”

“Anyhow, nothing will hurt us.”

“What are you going to do, girls?” inquired the voice of Angelique Saucier.  The whole scheme took a foolish tinge as she spoke.  They were ashamed to tell her what they were going to do.

Peggy Morrison drew near and whispered, “We want to go to the old Jesuit College and sow hempseed.”

“Hempseed?”

“Yes.  You do it on Midsummer Night.”

“Will it grow the better for that?” asked the puzzled French girl.

“We don’t want it to grow, you goose.  We want to try our fortunes.”

“It was Peggy Morrison’s plan,” spoke out Clarice Vigo.

“It’s an old English custom,” declared Peggy, “as old as burning brushwood.”

“Would you like to observe this old English custom, Mademoiselle Zhone?” questioned Angelique.

“Yes, let us hurry on.”

“I think myself it would be charming.”  The instant Angelique thought this, Peggy Morrison’s plan lost foolishness, and gained in all eyes the dignity of adventure.  “But we have no hempseed.”

“Yes, we have,” responded Peggy.  “Our Dinah is there outside the fence with her lap full of it.”

“And how do you sow it?”

“You scatter it and say, ’Hempseed, I sow thee,—­hempseed, I sow thee; let him who is to marry me come after me and mow thee.’”

An abashed titter ran through girlish Kaskaskia.

“And what happens then?”

“Then you look back and see somebody following you with a scythe.”

A suppressed squeal ran through girlish Kaskaskia.

“Now if we are going, we ought to go, or it will all be found out,” observed Peggy with decision.

They had only to follow the nearest cross-street to reach the old Jesuit College; but some were for making a long detour into the common fields to avoid being seen, while others were for passing close by the bonfire in a solid squad.  Neither Peggy nor Angelique could reconcile these factions, and Peggy finally crossed the fence and led the way in silence.  The majority hung back until they were almost belated.  Then, with a venturous rush, they scaled the fence and piled themselves upon Dinah, who was quietly trying to deal out a handful of hempseed to every passer; and some of them squalled in the fear of man at her uplifted paw.  Then, shying away from the light, they entered a street which was like a canal of shadow.  The houses bounding it were all dark, except the steep roof slopes of the southern row, which seemed to palpitate in the bonfire’s flicker.