De Artigny was back among the huts, in charge of that end of the line, no doubt, and it was only occasionally I gained glimpse of his presence. An Indian canoe came ashore just before sundown, and our men knocked off work to cluster about and examine its cargo of furs. Angered by the delay Cassion strode in among them, and, with bitter words and a blow or two, drove them back to their task. The loss of time was not great, yet they were still busily engaged when darkness shut out the scene. Cassion came in alone, yet I observed nothing strange about his appearance, except that he failed to greet me with the usual attempt at gallantry, although his sharp eyes swept our faces, as he closed the door, and stared about the room. "What! not eaten yet?" he exclaimed. "I anticipated my fate to be a lonely meal, for the rascals worked like snails, and I would not leave them rest until all was finished. Faith, the odor is appetizing, and I am hungry as a bear." The younger priest waved his hand to the _engagé_, yet asked softly: "Monsieur Chevet--he is delayed also?" "He will sup with his men tonight," returned Cassion shortly, seating himself on the bench. "The sergeant keeps guard of the canoes, and Chevet will be useful with those off duty." The man ate as though nearly famished, his ready tongue unusually silent, and at the conclusion of the meal, appeared so fatigued, that I made early excuse to withdraw so he might rest in comfort, climbing the ladder in one corner to my own bed beneath the eaves. This apartment, whose only advantage was privacy, was no more than a narrow space between the sloping rafters of the roof, unfurnished, but with a small window in the end, closed by a wooden shutter. A partition of axe-hewn planks divided this attic into two compartments, thus composing the priests' sleeping chambers. While I was there they both occupied the one to the south, Cassion, Chevet, and Père Allouez resting in the main room below. As I lowered the trap in the floor, shutting out the murmur of voices, I was conscious of no desire to sleep, my mind busily occupied with possibilities of the morrow. I opened the window, and seated myself on the floor, gazing out at the night. Below extended the priests' garden, and beyond the dark gloom of forest depths. A quarter moon peeped through cloud rifts, and revealed in spectral light the familiar objects. It was a calm, peaceful scene, yet ghostly in the silvery gleam and silence--the stumps of half-burned trees assuming grotesque forms, and the wind tossing branches as though by some demon hand. Yet in my restless mood that outside world called me and I leaned forth to see if it was possible to descend.