He thought of Bucklaw, and by some impossible instinct divined
the presence of his hand. Suddenly he saw something flash on the ground.
He stooped and picked it up. It was a shoe with a silver buckle. He
thrilled to the finger-tips as he thrust it in his bosom and pushed on.
He was on the trail now. In a few moments he came to the waterside. He
looked to where he had seen the Nell Gwynn in the morning, and there was
never a light in view. Then a twig snapped, and Bucklaw, the girl in his
arms, came bundling out of the trees upon the bank. He had sent Radisson
on ahead to warn his boat's crew.
He saw Iberville as soon as Iberville saw him. He knew that the town
would be roused by this time and the governor on fire for revenge. But
there was nothing for it but fight. He did not fear the result. Time
was life to him, and he swung the girl half behind him with his hook-hand
as Iberville came on, and, whipping out his hanger, caught the
Frenchman's thrust. Instantly he saw that his opposite was a swordsman,
so he let the girl slip to the ground, and suddenly closing with
Iberville, lunged desperately and expertly at him, straight for a mortal
part. But the Frenchman was too agile and adroit for him: he took the
thrust in the flesh of his ribs and riposted like lightning. The pirate
staggered back, but pulled himself together instantly, lunged, and took
his man in the flesh of his upper sword arm.
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