That was my first glimpse of the interior of a frontier fort, and, although I saw only the little open space lighted by a few waving torches, the memory abides with distinctness. A body of men met us at the gate, dim, indistinct figures, a few among them evidently soldiers from their dress, but the majority clothed in the ordinary garb of the wilderness. Save for one Indian squaw, not a woman was visible, nor did I recognize a familiar face, as the fellows, each man bearing a rifle, surged about us in noisy welcome, eagerly questioning those who had gone forth to our rescue. Yet we were scarcely within, and the gates closed, when a man pressed his way forward through the throng, in voice of authority bidding them stand aside. A blazing torch cast its red light over him, revealing a slender figure attired in frontier garb, a dark face, made alive by a pair of dense brown eyes, which met mine in a stare of surprise. "Back safe, Boisrondet," he exclaimed sharply, "and have brought in a woman. 'Tis a strange sight in this land. Were any of our lads hurt?" "None worth reporting, Monsieur. The man they carried was a soldier of M. de la Durantaye. He was struck down before we reached the party. There is an old comrade here." "An old comrade! Lift the torch, Jacques. Faith, there are so few left I would not miss the sight of such a face." He stared about at us, for an instant uncertain; then took a quick step forward, his hand outstretched. "Rene de Artigny!" he cried, his joy finding expression in his face. "Ay, an old comrade, indeed, and only less welcome here than M. de la Salle himself. 'Twas a bold trick you played tonight, but not unlike many another I have seen you venture. You bring me message from Monsieur?" "Only that he has sailed safely for France to have audience with Louis. I saw him aboard ship, and was bidden to tell you to bide here in patience, and seek no quarrel with De Baugis." "Easy enough to say; but in all truth I need not seek quarrel--it comes my way without seeking. De Baugis was not so bad--a bit high strung, perhaps, and boastful of his rank, yet not so ill a comrade--but there is a newcomer here, a popinjay named Cassion, with whom I cannot abide. Ah, but you know the beast, for you journeyed west in his company. _Sacre_! the man charged you with murder, and I gave him the lie to his teeth. Not two hours ago we had our swords out, but now you can answer for yourself." De Artigny hesitated, his eyes meeting mine. "I fear, Monsieur de Tonty," he said finally, "the answer may not be so easily made. If it were point of sword now, I could laugh at the man, but he possesses some ugly facts difficult to explain." "Yet 'twas not your hand which did the deed?"