"Your aunt and uncle and Madeleine your cousin dwell in this land, two days' journey beyond the river. My father was hunted for his life. They called him a wizard. You know? Yes, once at home you might have shielded him, but there was your advancement to be thought on. Swear to me to find them. Tell Madeleine how I died. Be good to her. Ah, cousin, be a brother to Madeleine. You shall find her the fairest sister in all this world. Swear to bring them from their solitude, to protect my father. Swear before this holy priest to feed and clothe them if they be in want, to care for them, and be to them a brother and a son." Roussilac, who had softened for the moment, grew again stern. His position was not so sure that it could withstand the attacks of tongues that might whisper at home that the young governor of the new colony sheltered a heretic uncle. Jean-Marie was quick to note the change. He knew the hardness of his cousin's heart. "Swear to me, or have my shadow cursing you through life." The priest put out his arm with a word of adjuration. "The crucifix," the commandant muttered. St Agapit held it over the dying man. "Touch not the sacred symbol without a prayer, my son. Beware God's wrath!" With one hand grasping the cold fingers, the other pressed fearfully upon the metal figure thrilling in the priest's grasp, Roussilac took the oath that was required of him. "And that I will keep it, I call God, our Lady, and the blessed saints to witness!" he concluded in a hushed voice. Hardly had he spoken, and while he still watched his cousin lying white with the light fading from his eyes, the fortress from end to end became tumultuous. A gun roared, a din of shouting, the thud of flying feet, the shriek of women, the cry of his soldiery swept up the slope in wave upon wave of uproar. "An attack!" he cried. "And I am from my post!" "Peace!" said St Agapit, with a frown. "The God of battles is not here." "Arnaud," came the hollow whisper out of the tumult, "I have more to say. My voice goes. I pray you bend your head." "I came secretly," said Roussilac wildly. "I cannot stay. Father, duty is calling me. My reputation, my position----" "Your family," said the priest, pointing sternly. The night air became a storm with the shout: "The Iroquois! The Iroquois are upon us!" "Cousin!" whispered the dying man. "My position!" cried the commandant; and turning with the confession he caught up his cloak, saying: "I will return. I will come back to you, Jean-Marie. My country calls me." "His ambition!" murmured the lean priest, as the door swung back, and the tumult rolled in like a raging sea flung upon a cave. CHAPTER XXI. IRON AND STEEL.