"He would not. I am his best rifleman--after Eli Greenglove. He knows my value. And my honor as a soldier is worth more to me than fifty pieces of eight." Crouching in the shrubbery, Auguste shook his head in wonder. There was some sense of right and wrong even among Raoul's rogues. But that hadn't stopped Wegner from being one of the men who backed Raoul with his rifle this morning. He waited for the men to cross the ridge. He heard no sound from the one who had fallen; he had probably taken his comrades' advice and gone to sleep. When the lantern swung out of sight around a corner of the trading post palisade, Auguste darted forward. Keeping low, he made a wide circle through the wooded slope above Victor. He scrambled down to the road where the Hopkins house stood. A long-eared black dog barked and ran at him when he passed one of the houses along the road. His heart stopped as he waited for doors to fly open and rifles to fire at him. But he kept walking, and the dog stopped barking when he was beyond the house it was guarding. Hoping none of the neighbors would hear him, he knocked loudly at the Hopkins door to wake them up. Frank Hopkins, holding a candle in his hand, stood in the doorway in a long nightshirt. "What the devil is it? We've got a sick man in here--" He peered closer. "My God, Auguste! Get inside, quick." He reached out, dragged Auguste through the door and shut it quickly behind him. "I thought you were out at the Hales'." They stood in Frank's ground-floor workshop. The iron printing press towered shadowy in the candle's glow. "I came to see Grandpapa. And--Frank, I'm going back to my people. I need your help." "Come upstairs." Frank helped Auguste untie his backpack. The stairs led to a second-floor corridor, and Frank drew Auguste into a room where an oil lamp with a tall glass chimney burned next to a large bed. Nicole sat there. The lamplight revealed Elysee's sharp profile against the white of the pillow. Nicole jumped to her feet. "Oh, Auguste! Are you all right?" "I'm getting better. How is Grandpapa?" "He's only been awake half the time. Gram Medill looked in on him. She said he wrenched his hip when he fell and had bad bruises, but he hadn't broken any bones. I've been sitting up with him. What about you--how is your head?" Auguste felt as if chains had fallen away from his chest at the news that Grandpapa was not dying. Then his head started to hurt. In the excitement of slipping past his enemies, Auguste had forgotten his pain. Now he rubbed the spot above his right ear where Greenglove's rifle had hit him. He felt a lump that was sore to the touch. But he was able to smile reassuringly at Nicole. He spoke in a low voice so as not to disturb Elysee. "I won't be able to put my fine beaver hat on over this bump. But I won't be taking my fine beaver hat where I'm going."