"I remember you, sir," was the prompt response, "and you are at liberty to go out there if you desire. That is the door leading to the platform." "The Indians appear to be very quiet to-night." "The more reason to believe them plotting some fresh deviltry," he answered, rising to his feet, and facing me. "We never have much to disturb us upon this side, as it overhangs the river and is not easy of approach; but the guard on the south wall is kept pretty busy these last few nights, and has to patrol the stockade. The Indians have been holding some sort of a powwow out at their camp ever since dark, and that's apt to mean trouble sooner or later." "Then you keep no sentry posted on the platform?" I asked, a thought suddenly occurring to me. "Not regularly, sir; only when something suspicious happens along the river. There's nobody out there now excepting the French girl,--she seems to be fond of being out there all alone." The French girl? Could it be possible that he meant Toinette? I was conscious of a strange fluttering of the heart, as I stepped forth upon the narrow foot-way and peered along it, searching for her. I could distinguish nothing, however; and as I slowly felt my way forward, testing the squared log beneath me with careful foot and keeping hold with one hand upon the sharpened palisades, I began to believe the corporal had been mistaken. The door, closing behind, shut off the last gleam of light, and I was left alone in utter darkness and silence, save for the low rumble of voices within the Fort enclosure, and the soft plashing below where the river current kissed the bank at the foot of the stockade. I had gone almost the full length of that side, before I came where she was leaning against the logs, her chin resting upon one hand, her gaze turned north ward. Indeed, so silent was she, so intent upon her own thought, I might have touched her unnoticed in the gloom, had not the stars broken through a rift in the cloud above us, and sent a sudden gleam of silver across her face. "Mademoiselle," I said, striving to address her with something of the ease I thought De Croix would exercise at such a moment, "I meant not to intrude upon your privacy, yet I am most glad to meet with you once more." She started slightly, as though aroused from reverie, and glanced inquiringly toward me. "I supposed my visitor to be one of the guard," she said pleasantly; "and even now I am unable to distinguish your face, yet the sound of the voice re minds me of John Wayland." "I am proud to know that it has not already been forgotten. You deserted me so suddenly this afternoon, I almost doubted my being welcome now." She laughed lightly, tapping the ends of the logs with her finger-tips.