"Tried as a spy--ah, I see! You would disgrace? Well, but even then he
is not yours."

Iberville got to his feet. "Don't try to think it out, Perrot. It will
come to you in good time. I can trust you--you are with me in all?"

"Have I ever failed you?"

"Never. You will not hesitate to go against the admiral's ship? Think,
what an adventure! Remember Adam Dollard and the Long Sault!"

What man in Canada did not remember that handful of men, going out with
an antique courage to hold back the Iroquois, and save the colony, and
die? Perrot grasped Iberville's hand, and said: "Where you go, I go.
Where I go, my men will follow."

Their pact was made. They sat there in silence till the grey light of
morning crept slowly in. Still they did not lie down to rest; they were
waiting for De Casson. He came before a ray of sunshine had pierced the
leaden light. Tall, massive, proudly built, his white hair a rim about
his forehead, his deep eyes watchful and piercing, he looked a soldier in
disguise, as indeed he was to-day as much a soldier as when he fought
under Turenne forty years before.

The three comrades were together again.

Iberville told his plans. The abbe lifted his fingers in admonition
once or twice, but his eyes flashed as Iberville spoke of an attempt to
capture the admiral on his own ship. When Iberville had finished, he
said in a low voice: