Gabriel’s cheeks were hot again. He faltered in his speech. The old man looked him up and down. Yes, he was a goodly youth. A queer little smile flickered on the priest’s thin-lipped mouth, but all he said was: “My son, these things arrange themselves.” He turned to go. Gabriel stood where he had left him, dreamy-eyed and quiet. Then, with a start he came to himself. He was allowing M. Girard to go, and nothing was settled. This was no time for dreams impossible of immediate fulfillment; there was work to be done, and that quickly. With one bound he had overtaken the priest and laid his hand on his arm. “But soon—in a day, two days—the _abbé_ will know me disobedient here,” he cried. “I cannot go to Port Royal, neither can the _gran’-père_ endure the toilsome journey hither. O _mon père_, advise, counsel me.” The priest paused, irresolute. “My son, in this matter of the fort I cannot advise thee. For the _gran’-père_ and the little Margot I will give them what protection I may. _M. l’Abbé_ visits Cobequid on matters concerning the oath I have taken, and I will represent to him that thou art one whom to drive is vain, but that thou canst be led. Put thy faith in the Holy Mother, _mon fils_, she will intercede for thee and thine. Ah, I had forgotten, thou art no longer of the faith. Adieu, then, poor youth.” With a cold chill at his heart, and a sense of desolation such as never in his young life he had felt before, Gabriel watched the figure of him who represented his last hope disappear into the now darkening shades of the forest. But sometimes it happens that hope is never so near us as when we deem her fled. As Gabriel slowly bent his steps toward the settlement by the way that he had come, a dusky form glided out from the hills and confronted him. “I have sought Wild Deer long,” said a well-known voice, “and at last I find him.” “Jean Jacques.” “It is he. But say not that Jean Jacques was faithless to the paleface boy. He was not. Let Wild Deer clasp hands with the Micmac, and all may yet be well.” CHAPTER IV Night had closed in around the new fort of Halifax and upon the houses clustered about its walls. With a beating heart Gabriel leaned against the postern, waiting for the expected summons from the lambs of Le Loutre. What if his plans should fail? What if the governor’s trust in the word of a mere boy should falter? What if the feet of Jean Jacques should waver ere the goal was reached? Gabriel had followed that rarely misleading impulse which impels one soul of honor to confide in another, no matter what the dividing line between them, whether of sex, age, or degree. Cornwallis knew all, and Jean Jacques was on his way to remove the _gran’-père_ and Margot to a place of safety, if yet there might be time.