"We shall see," he said aloud, as he moved towards the door, but still kept an eye on Steve. "This lad is a brave one, and I am taken with him. That is strange now, for up to this an Englishman has been to me, as to all my comrades, just an Englishman, fit to be slain if need be. I have pitied them often, to be sure, for it is hard to see them given over to these braves. But it is necessary to keep the Indians in good temper, and, therefore, what is necessary should not be grumbled at. Why is it that this young Hawk has gained my goodwill?" He was of a reflective turn of mind, this French sergeant, and stood again with his hand on the latch of the door, staring hard at Steve and thinking aloud. "Peste take it! Why is this? Ah! It must be this Jules Lapon. I have hated him ever since he came to us, and more so now that he is our commandant in the absence of the colonel. He is a hard man, or else he would never order the execution of a white prisoner without some sort of trial. I doubt that he has the power. The colonel could intervene, if only he were not chained to his bed with a broken thigh. _Mon Dieu!_" He strode across the floor of beaten and frozen earth, and shook the sleeper vigorously. His face was flushed, and there was an air of excitement about him. "Pardon, monsieur, but I wish to ask a question. Monsieur, you are awake, and I ask pardon for disturbing you. But this is a matter of importance." Steve opened his eyes wearily, and acknowledged the presence of the sergeant somewhat peevishly, for he had been enjoying a most refreshing and dreamless sleep. He rubbed his eyes, stared at the sergeant, and then caught sight of the streak of light penetrating through the door. Then his senses returned with a rush, and he remembered. "The dawn, sergeant," he said. "Then this Jules Lapon will carry out his purpose. I am ready. Help me to get to my feet." "Not now, monsieur. I am about to go for the firing party, but wish to ask an important question. Tell me, was it you who aided monsieur le colonel, Colonel St. Arnould de Prossen, till a week ago the commandant of this force?" He waited for the answer eagerly, as if his own life depended on it, and gave a cry of joy as Steve replied that it was he who had found the unfortunate soldier, and who had had him carried on to the lake and handed over to his friends. "Then rest easy, monsieur. I go to the colonel, and we shall see if this firing party assembles. Sleep again. Have I not said that you have many friends? Even the Indians would save you now, not because they wish to reserve you for torture, but because you have shown bravery and much honour to themselves." He pressed Steve gently back on to the couch, and raced from the hut. A few minutes later he was knocking at the door of his colonel's quarters, thumping on the logs with an energy which brought shouts of anger from within, and very soon afterwards the squat figure of a French soldier servant came to the door.