"Hide yourself first," whispered Saint-Castin.

They could hear feet running on the flinty approach. The chase was so
close that the English might have seen them enter the chapel.

"Get in, get in!" begged the Abenaqui girl. "They will not hurt me."

"Hide!" said Saint-Castin, thrusting her fiercely in. "Would they not
carry off the core of Saint-Castin's heart if they could?"

She flattened herself on the ground under the platform, and gave him
all the space at her side that the contraction of her body left clear,
and he let the slab down carefully over their heads. They existed
almost without breath for many minutes.

The wooden door-hinges creaked, and stumbling shins blundered against
the benches.

"What is this place?" spoke an English voice. "Let some one take his
tinder-box and strike a light."

"Have care," warned another. "We are only half a score in number. Our
errand was to kidnap Saint-Castin from his hold, not to get ourselves
ambushed by the Abenaquis."

"We are too far from the sloop now," said a third. "We shall be cut
off before we get back, if we have not a care."

"But he must be in here."