And presently, after the meal was over, she saw Mr. Mowbray gather his men in a group. For a few moments he spoke to them, and a ripple of words, of ejaculations and exclamations, went across the assemblage like a wave.
Wondering eyes turned to the figure in the glow of the fire, to the brown hands hard clasped, the face with its flame-lit eyes.
“Five men and a good canoe I send with them,” said Mowbray quietly; “who goes? Know you it is a quest of death.”
“Who goes, M'sieu?” cried a French trader. “I! 'Tis worth a year of the fur trade!”
Once more she had made her appeal to man, man in the abstract, and once more he had come to her, this maid of dreams.
Mr. Mowbray had lost half his brigade had he not fixed on those who were the strongest among the volunteers, the best canoe-men, the best shots.
Such were these men of the wilderness, excitable, ready for any hazard, drawn by the longest odds, and to serve a woman gave the last zest to danger.
Seldom enough did a woman appeal to them in such romantic wise.
“Brilliers,--Alloybeau,--Wilson,” picked out Mr Mowbray, with a finger pointing his words; “McDonald,--Frith,--make ready the fourth canoe, Take store of pemmican and all things necessary for light travel and quick. From to-morrow you will answer to Ma'amselle. When she is through with you report to me, either at Cumberland or York, according to the time.”
And he left his men to walk over and seat himself beside Maren Le Moyne on the shingle.
It was dark of the moon and the night was thick with stars and forest sounds. Out on the lake beyond the ranged canoes at the water's edge, the fish were slapping.
“Ma'amselle,” said Mr. Mowbray gravely, “I have detailed you five men, a canoe, and stores. May God grant that they may serve your purpose.”
“And may He forever hold you in His grace, M'sieu!” she said tremulously; “and bless you at the hour of death!”
“And now, Ma'amselle,” he said gently, “tell me more of this strange adventure. How comes it that a young maid, alone but for a youthful trapper, goes to the Pays d'en Haut after a factor, of the Company? Why did this duty not fall to the men of the post?”
“They said, as you, M'sieu, but an hour back, that it was a quest of death. They love life. I love the factor.”