"Ef you wait fur me to row or paddle you, you won't ever travel more'n six inches," said Long Jim. "Jest like you, Jim; you ain't got no gratitood at all fur me gittin' you away from New Orlee-yuns." Paul, who had been speaking to Henry in a low tone, now turned again to Mr. Pollock. "There is one more thing that we want you to do for us, if you will, Mr. Pollock," he said. "We took the boat from Alvarez because he attacked us first, and we put it to what we think was a good use. But it really belonged to Spain and Bernardo Galvez. So if any wages are coming to us we wish that you would take enough in advance and pay the Governor General for the use of the boat and what stores we may have consumed." "It shall be done," said Oliver Pollock, "and I like your spirit in wishing it to be done." It was a promise that he kept faithfully. When they reached their room they found their rifles and other arms in perfect order. Lieutenant Diego Bernal had taken good care of them. Long Jim picked up his rifle and handled it lovingly. "It feels good jest to tech it," he said. "I didn't think I could ever like a Spaniard ez well ez I do that thar little leftenant. I'll miss him when we go ploughin' up the river." They were preparing to leave the room and breathe all out of doors, as Sol put it, when they were stopped by the entrance of Father Montigny. They crowded around him, expressing anew the gratitude that they had shown to him at the house of the Governor General. "It was really you, Father Montigny, who saved everything," said Paul. The priest smiled and shook his head. "No," he said, "It was not I, but your courage and tenacity. I had the rare good fortune to find the letter among the Chickasaws and obtain it. It was sent by the Shawnees and Miamis as a sort of token, a war belt as it were. It was only a remote chance that brought it back to New Orleans, and even then Alvarez confidently expected to be Governor General." "What will become of Alvarez?" asked Paul. "It is the plan to send him a prisoner to Spain on the galleon, Dona Isabel, as you know, but I fear that we have not heard the last of him. He is a man of fierce temper, and now he is wild with rage and mortification. Moreover, he has many followers here in New Orleans. All the desperadoes, adventurers, former galley slaves, and others of that type would have been ready to rally around him. But I have come to tell you good-bye. I go again in my canoe up the Mississippi." "Can't you stay a while in New Orleans and rest?" asked Paul--the sympathy between Paul and the priest was strong, each having a certain spiritual quality that was in agreement. "No," replied Father Montigny, "I cannot stay. You came on your task in spite of hardships and dangers because you felt that a power urged you to it. Farewell. We may meet again or we may not, as Heaven wills." They followed him to the door and when he was almost out of sight he turned and waved his hand to them.