LeNOIR'S NEW MASTER
"Never mind," said Ranald, shortly, "let us get away now, quick! Go on, Yankee."
At once, with Yankee leading, the Glengarry men marched off the field of battle bearing with them the rescued party. There was no time to lose. The enemy far outnumbered them, and would soon return to the attack.
"But how did you know we were in trouble, Ranald?" said Harry as he marched along.
"I didn't know anything about you," said Ranald. "Some one came and said that the bully of the Ottawa was being killed, so I came along."
"And just in time, by Jove!" said the lieutenant, aroused from his languor for once. "It was a deucedly lucky thing, and well done, too, 'pon my soul."
That night, as Ranald and his uncle were in their cabin on the raft talking over the incidents of the day, and Ranald's plans for the summer, a man stood suddenly in the doorway.
"I am Louis LeNoir, " he said, "and I have some word to say to de young Macdonald. I am sore here," he said, striking his breast. "I cannot spik your languige. I cannot tell." He stopped short, and the tears came streaming down his face. "I cannot tell," he repeated, his breast heaving with mighty sobs. "I would be glad to die—to mak' over—to not mak'—I cannot say de word—what I do to your fadder. I would give my life," he said, throwing out both his hands. "I would give my life. I cannot say more."
Ranald stood looking at him for a few moments in
303
