"Then I will swear by it--I will swear by all the crosses and all the
Bibles in the world that I will make no effort to escape. I am
paralyzed, Croisset! I couldn't run for a week!"

Croisset was searching in his pockets.

"_Mon Dieu!_" he cried excitedly, "I have lost it! Ah, come to think,
M'seur, I gave the cross to my Mariane before I went into the South, But
I will take your word."

"And who is Mariane, Jean? Will she also be in at the 'kill?'"

"Mariane is my wife, M'seur. Ah, _ma belle_ Mariane--_ma cheri_--the
daughter of an Indian princess and the granddaughter of a _chef de
bataillon_, M'seur! Could there be better than that? And she is
be-e-e-utiful, M'seur, with hair like the top side of a raven's wing
with the sun shining on it, and--"

"You love her a great deal, Jean."

"Next to the Virgin--and--it may be a little better."

Croisset had severed the rope about the engineer's legs, and as he
raised his glowing eyes Howland reached out and put both hands on his
shoulders.

"And in just that way I love Meleese," he said softly. "Jean, won't you
be my friend? I don't want to escape. I'm not a coward. Won't you think
of what your Mariane might do, and be a friend to me? You would die for