“What is that I behold?” exclaimed Le Loutre. “Where is your Christian service, vowed to God and the king? Instead, I find feasting and foolish gabbling, with a traitorous captive in the midst!” The faces of the Indians clouded in sullen silence. The lash of the priest’s tongue went unsparingly on. At length the leader growled out, “The pale faces from over the sea bring no more gifts. The red men grow weary of taking the scalps of friendly white men who are at war with your people but who do the Indian no wrong. They at the new fort have treated us well. And as for this boy, you give us not enough to take the scalp of so mighty a hunter and true a tracker.” Le Loutre’s face paled with baffled rage. True it was that owing to some at present unexplained delay the customary large remittances from France for the bribing of Indians who were friendly to the English were not forthcoming, and with a heart-leap of joy Gabriel saw the truth written in his eyes. “Fools! Did I bid you take his scalp? Did I not bid you rather to chasten him for his faithlessness and force him back to his duty? This you know well enough how to do without my guiding presence. Yet I come to find——” With a gesture of unutterable scorn he waved his black-robed arm. But his personal influence was on the wane, and he knew it. It was money, gifts, that were needed, and for these he must wait. Yet were there still a few whose greed was of the kind that will take anything rather than nothing, and on these he depended, and not in vain. Stealthily, like dark spirits, two or three Indians glided from behind their companions, and took up their station beside the priest. Strengthened by these mute allies he once more faced the group at the fire, and proceeded to pour forth in fervid eloquence alternate persuasion, threat, and glowing promise of future reward. Gabriel soon discovered that he was not the central figure in this tirade—that larger projects than the fate of one boy were being held before the now attentive Indians, who uttered guttural notes of assent or dissent. “A hundred _livres_ for each scalp—a hundred _livres_, mark you! This boy knows, as you cannot do, the plan of the fort at Halifax, and the number of its defenders. If he be so mighty a tracker, let him track these English dogs to their lair and fire them out of it, or in it, it matters not which, so that to God and the king are restored what is rightly theirs. But remember, a hundred _livres_ is yours for every English scalp! My people may not do this thing, for they have signed a peace with their enemies, but for your people it is otherwise.” “Have we too, not set our totems to a solemn treaty?” growled one dissenting voice. Once more from the priest that gesture of contempt. “And what is that for such as you?” he said. “What is a broken treaty to the Indian?” Gabriel, unable longer to contain himself, sprang to his feet.