"It must have dropped off," said Jessica, blushing. "But it does not
matter."
Iberville blushed too, but a smile also flitted across his lips. "If you
will but put your hand into my waistcoat here," he said to her, "you will
find it." Timidly she did as she was bid, drew forth the slipper, and
put it on.
"You see," said Iberville, still faint from loss of blood, "a Frenchman
can fight and hunt too--hunt the slipper."
Suddenly a look of pain crossed her face.
"Mr. Gering, you--you did not kill him?" she asked. "Oh no,
mademoiselle," said Iberville; "you stopped the game again."
Presently he told her what had happened, and how Gering was rousing the
town. Then he insisted upon getting on his feet, that they might make
their way to the governor's house. Stanchly he struggled on, his weight
upon Perrot, till presently he leaned a hand also on Jessica's shoulder-
she had insisted. On the way, Perrot told how it was he chanced to be
there. A band of coureurs du bois, bound for Quebec, had come upon old
Le Moyne and himself in the woods. Le Moyne had gone on with these men,
while Perrot pushed on to New York, arriving at the very moment of the
kidnapping. He heard the cry and made towards it. He had met Gering,
and the rest they knew.
Certain things did not happen. The governor of New York did not at once
engage in an expedition to the Spaniards' country.
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