Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1916-09-01

L df1 SUIT u llldls AC cdAo ~
~, land so think it best to return while
the night conceals my movements
There will be hot words when NJ. Cas-
sion discovers your escape, n my
chief may need my sword beside him,
If it comes to blows. Is my decision
to return right, Rene?"
cay, right; would that | might be
with you. But what plan did NJ. de
Tonty outline for me to followY'
"'Twas what l started to tell. At
the edge of the water, but concealed
from the river by rocks, is a small hut
where we keep hidden a canoe ready
fitted for any secret service. Twas
Sieur de la Sales thought that 1t
might prove of great use In time OF
siege. No doubt 1t is there now, just
as we left 1t. undiscovered or the lro-
quois. This will bear you down the
river until daylight, when you can hide
along shore"
There is a ritter
1.-TWO of them, with powder and
ball. He laid his hand on the others
shoulder. 'sThere Is nothing more to
say,.and time is of value. Farewell, my
friend"
Farewell" their fingers clasped.
'aThere will be other days, Francois;
my gratitude to NJ. de Tonty." Bois-
rondet stepped back, and. hat In hand,
bowed to me.
".Adieu, madame: a pleasant Jour-
ney."
"a moment, monsieur" l said, a fall
ter in my voice. you are NJ. OAR
tigny's friend. an officer of France. and
a Catholic"
Eyes. madame
"And you think that l am right In
my choice-that l am doing naught I'M
worthy of my womanhood?"
Even in the darkness l saw him
make the symbol of the cross, before
he bent forward and kissed my hand.
MADAME" he said gravely, 81 am
but a plain soldier, with all my service
on the frontier. I leave to the priests
the discussion of doctrines, and to God
my punishment and reward. | can
only answer you as D'Artigny's friend,
and an officer of France. | give you
honor and respect, and deem your love
and trust far more holy than your mar
rage. My faith, and my sword are
yours, madame"
l felt his lips upon my hand, vet
knew not he had gone. l stood there,
my eyes blinded with tears at his gal
,aa+ x,o,.Je op1u baoanino o~oncoioua of
his disappearance when D'Artigny
drew me to him; his cheek pressed
against my hair.
"He has gone! We are aloner'
Eyes, dear one; but l thank God for
those last words. They have given me
courage and faith. So my old COM
rades believe us right the criticism Of
others does not move me. You love
me. Adele? You do not regret?"
My arms found way about his neck;
my lips uplifted to his.
Monsieur, I shall never regret; 1
trust God and you"
How he ever found his way along
that dim trail shall never know.
Some memory of its windings, together
with the instinct of a woodsman. must
have given guidance, while no doubt
his feet, clad in soft Indian mecca
sins, enabled him to feel the faint
track, imperceivable In the darkness.
1t led along a steep bank, through low.
tangled bushes, and about great trees,
with here and there a rock thrust
across the path, compelling detour.
The branches scratched my face and
tore my dress, confusing me so that
had l not chung to his arm, l should
have been instantly lost in the gloom.
Our advance was slow and cautious,
every step taken In silence. Snakes
could not have moved with less noise,
and the precaution was well taken.
Suddenly D'Artigny stopped, gripping
me In warning. For a moment there
was no sound except the distant MUIR
muir of waters, and the chatter of some
night bird. Yet some instinct of the
woods held the nan ~motionless, listen
ing. A twig cracked to our left, and
then a voice spoke, low and rumbling.