"Yes, Monsieur, I mean that. You refused me before, but I see no harm, no wrong in the suggestion. If the men we fought were honorable I might hesitate--but they have shown no sense of honor. They have made me their victim, and I am fully justified in turning their own weapons against them. I have never hesitated in my purpose, and I shall not now. I shall use the weapons which God has put into my hands to wring from him the bitter truth--the weapons of a woman, love, and jealousy. Monsieur, am I to fight this fight alone?" At first I thought he would not answer me, although his hand grip tightened, and his eyes looked down into mine, as though he would read the very secret of my heart. "Perhaps I did not understand before," he said at last, "all that was involved in your decision. I must know now the truth from your own lips before I pledge myself." "Ask me what you please; I am not too proud to answer." "I think there must be back of this choice of yours something more vital than hate, more impelling than revenge." "There is, Monsieur." "May I ask you what?" "Yes, Monsieur, and I feel no shame in answering; I love you! Is that enough?" "Enough! my sweetheart--" "Hush!" I interrupted, "not now--Barbeau returns yonder." CHAPTER XXIV WE ATTACK THE SAVAGES It was already so dark that the soldier was almost upon us before I perceived his shadow, but it was evident enough from his first words that he had overheard none of our conversation. "There are no Indians in the village," he said gruffly, leaning on his gun, and staring at us. "I got across to a small island, along the trunk of a dead tree, and had good view of the whole bank yonder. The tepees stand, but not a squaw, nor a dog is left." "Were there any canoes in sight along the shore?" "Only one, broken beyond repair." "Then, as I read the story, the tribe fled down the stream, either to join the others on the Illinois, or the whites at the fort. They were evidently not attacked, but had news of the coming of the Iroquois, and escaped without waiting to give battle. 'Tis not likely the wolves will overlook this village long. Are we ready to go forward?" "Ay, the venture must be made, and it is dark enough now." De Artigny's hand pressed my shoulder. "I would that I could remain with you, Madame," he said quietly, "but as I know the way my place is in advance. Barbeau must be your protector." "Nor could I ask for a braver. Do not permit any thought of me to make you less vigilant, Monsieur. You expect to gain the fort unseen?"