He sprang away towards the spot where his comrades awaited him.
Escape was his sole ambition now. The new-comer ran forwards, and saw
the boy and girl lying as they were dead. A swift glance at Iberville,
and he slung his musket shoulderwards and fired at the retreating figure.
It was a chance shot, for the light was bad and Bucklaw was already
indistinct.
Now the man dropped on his knee and felt Iberville's heart. "Alive!" he
said. "Alive, thank the mother of God! Mon brave! It is ever the same
--the great father, the great son."
As he withdrew his hand it brushed against the slipper. He took it out,
glanced at it, and turned to the cloaked figure. He undid the cloak and
saw Jessica's pale face. He shook his head. "Always the same," he said,
"always the same: for a king, for a friend, for a woman! That is the Le
Moyne."
But he was busy as he spoke. With the native chivalry of the woodsman,
he cared first for the girl. Between her lips he thrust his drinking-
horn and held her head against his shoulder.
"My little ma'm'selle-ma'm'selle!" he said. "Wake up. It is nothing--
you are safe. Ah, the sweet lady! Come, let me see the colour of your
eyes. Wake up--it is nothing."
Presently the girl did open her eyes. He put the drinking-horn again to
her lips. She shuddered and took a sip, and then, invigorated, suddenly
drew away from him.
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