"'T is not in quarrel," I explained,--I fear with ill grace, for her words in his defence were little inclined to mollify me. "You may indeed have so poor conception of me as to misinterpret my coming; yet in truth I seek De Croix in friendship, hoping that I may by a chance word serve him." "Indeed! what danger threatens, that he needs to be warned against?" I hesitated; for, now that my blood had somewhat cooled, my mission seemed a bit foolish. "I insist upon knowing," she continued haughtily, her eyes full upon mine, "or I shall believe you sought him for hostile purpose, and would deceive me by fair words." "Mademoiselle," I answered gravely, "you do me wrong. Only a few moments ago I chanced to overhear a discussion, by the officers of this Fort, regarding a commission to go forth and hold council with the Indians. Captain Heald is determined upon such a course; but none will volunteer to accompany him, because of the grave danger of savage treachery. The Frenchman's name was mentioned as one reckless enough to join with such a party; and I sought to warn him ere he accepted blindly. He is hardly a friend of mine,--yet it seems no more than fair that he should know the full measure of his peril before saying 'yes.'" She came impulsively forward, with quickly extended hand, her face aglow. "You are indeed a true heart, John Wayland, and have shamed me rightly. I know well the deceit and treachery of Indian nature, and can understand the peril such a party would run. Promise me that you will prevent Captain de Croix from becoming one of them." "I?" I exclaimed in perplexed surprise; "I can do no more than warn him." "But you must do more!" she cried imperatively. "He will surely go if asked. A warning such as you propose would only stir his blood. I beg you to use your wits a little, so that he may know nothing of it." I looked at her, deeply hurt by the interest so openly displayed. "You are wondrously aroused for the Frenchman's safety, Mademoiselle!" "Yes, though not as you may fancy. Captain de Croix came here for my sake, even though no word of mine gave him reason for doing so. For this reason I could never forgive myself if harm befell him on such a journey. 'T would be as if I had lured him to his death. So 'tis for my sake, not his, that I ask the favor." I leaned against the log wall and thought quickly, her anxious eyes never leaving my face. There came into my mind a conviction that the girl really loved him; and this made the struggle harder for me to serve him. Nor did I see clearly how it could well be done, save through a sacrifice of myself, such as I had never intended. "Surely," she urged, "your wits will conceive some way in which it may be done?" "Yes," I answered, eager now to hide my own feeling from her; "'tis not hopeless. You desire that he be kept within the Fort, ignorant of this commission?" "I do; 't is the only way."