"It is naturally hard for such a child as she is to take this journey. She has had no experience,--she does not comprehend the easy customs and the hard travelling of the frontier. I think that in time--" Menard was puffing impatiently. "Father," he said, "do you remember when Major Gordeau was killed, and I was detailed to bring his wife and daughter down to Three Rivers? It was much like this. They fretted and could not sleep, and the coarse fare of the road was beneath their appetites. Do you remember? And when it came to taking the rapids, with the same days of hard work that lie before us now, they were too weak, and they sickened, the mother first, then the daughter. When I think of that, Father, of the last week of that journey, and of how I swore never again to take a woman in my care on the river, I--well, there is no use in going over it. If this goes on, we shall not get to Frontenac in time, that is all. And I cannot afford to take such a chance." The priest looked grave. The long struggle against the rapids from Montreal to La Gallette had tried the hardihood of more than one strong man. "It is probable, my son, that the sense of your responsibility makes you a little over-cautious. She is a strong enough child, I should say. Still, perhaps the food is not what she has been accustomed to. I have noticed that she eats little." "Perrot is too fond of grease," Menard said. "I must tell him to use less grease." "If she should be taken sick, we could leave her with someone at Montreal." "Leave her at Montreal!" exclaimed Menard. "When she breaks down, it will be in the rapids. And then I must either go on alone, or wait with you until she is strong enough to be carried. In any case it means confusion and delay. And I must not be delayed." "What have you in mind to do?" "We must find a way to brighten her spirits. It is homesickness that worries her, and sorrow for her father, and dread of what is before and around her. I'll warrant she has never been away from her home before. We must get her confidence,--devise ways to cheer her, brighten her." "I can reason with her, and--" "This is not the time for reasoning, Father. What we must do is to make her stop thinking, stop looking backward and forward. And there is Danton; he can help. He is of an age with her, and should succeed where you and I might fail." "He has not awaited the suggestion, Captain." "Yes, I know. But he must,--well, Father, it has all been said. The maid is on our hands, and must be got to Frontenac. That is all. And there is nothing for it but to rely on Danton to help." The priest looked at his brushes, and hesitated. "I am not certain," he said, "she is very young. And Lieutenant Danton,--I have heard, while at Quebec,--" Menard laughed.