CHAPTER X.

MYSTERIOU S.

THE sleepless nights, added to incessant fatigues, moral and physical, undergone since his disembarkation on the Isle of Sable, had considerably subdued John de Ganay. Sleep claimed its rights imperiously. Nevertheless, since the perusal of the papers found in the coffer, the young man's mind was agitated with so exciting an idea, that, repressing the desires of nature, he awoke Malificieux at sunrise, and said:

“Philip, I think we had better resume our explorations. Although the wreck of the Erable has furnished us some provisions, it would be imprudent to consume them before we can feel assured of being able to procure others. The sea-shore is not suited for cultivation. You, as well as I, have doubtless remarked that the shores of the lake where we have already been appear fertile. It would be desir

able, therefore, in my opinion, to return there as soon as we can, and try to cultivate a part. What think you?"

"Your opinion, master, seems judicious. So far as I have been able to see, game does not abound on the island, as that satanic pretended"

Interrupted by a grave look of the equerry, he resumed;

"I mean the pilot Chedotel. Well, master, I may be mistaken, but this devil of a mariner"

Another expressive look made him pause.

"Come on," said the viscount, curtly.

"In short," continued Philip Francœur, obstinately, "this Chedotel had always seemed to me like a lynx. Yes, indeed, by! To return to the affair in question, I see it, master, in the same light you do. There are more sand than hares,

ravens here than partridges, and more and the fish will not last long."

"Then it is best to set to work as soon as possible. Here, the same as in New France, the season will not wait."

"This is my plan," said John. "We will leave ten men here; they will be directed to finish the tents, to prepare food, and to watch the camp. With the others, I will commence the work."

"But the instruments?" objected Philip.

"Instruments, that's true!" replied the viscount, striking his forehead; "instruments! we have none-at least-"

A glance of hope lit up his countenance.

"Call Pierre!"

Pierre was one of the three sailors, ordered to guard the chests left by the tide on the beach after the sinking of the Erable, and since removed, as we have said, to the camp of the convicts. He ran.

He was a man of middle size, of a downcast and sullen countenance—one of those beings who must have inspired Shakespeare with his type of Caliban-a surname with which he was decorated.

"What do those chests contain ?" asked John de Ga

nay.

"Some flour and some damaged grain."

"Are there not also some instruments ?"

"Yes, sir, carpenter's tools."

"Is that all ?"

"Some shovels and pickaxes."

"Ah!" exclaimed the equerry, as if relieved from a heavy burden.

One chest contained arms, and two barrels of powder. But Caliban was very careful to say nothing about this to the viscount. He had hidden with his own hands during the preceding night, unknown to all his companions, the chest of arms, and one of the barrels of powder.

Caliban had his design.

"Very well," said the equerry, "you can withdraw."

The sailor saluted humbly, and retired, giving a stealthy look of malicious jealousy at the viscount.

“Heaven may grant my prayers!" murmured the equerry, after Caliban left.

“Philip !”

Malificieux who had remained standing, approached.

"You will remain here, and in my absence you will command. Better than anybody else you are capable of fulfilling that duty. If Providence permits the Castor to return, you will let me know at once. I have confidence in your fidelity."

Francœur bowed.

"Perhaps," continued John, "I may not return for some days. Send me a courier every morning, with an account of the situation; I will transmit you my orders by him."

Although he was sorry that he could not accompany the viscount in this enterprise, he replied:

"Yes, master."

"And," still added the Burgundian, in reminding the sailor of the coffer, from which he had taken the papers, without removing the portrait, "you will take care of this casket; I will confide it to you."

He said no more, but the tone of his words, and the emphasis he placed on them, were equivalent to an injunction.

"It will not leave me night or day," replied Malificieux, taking off his hat.

"Thank you, Philip," exclaimed the viscount, extending to the former his hand which, at first, he did not dare to touch, but which he shook warmly, throwing himself on his knees, when De Ganay said:

"What, Philip, do you refuse to give me a token of friendship ?"

The preparations for the expedition were promptly made. Those of the convicts who were sick, or least robust, were left at the camp; and the rest, armed with provisions, agricultural implements, hatches, and pick-axes, set out gayly on their march.

John de Ganay advanced at the head of the column, with his musket on his shoulder.

In the ranks they sang, laughed, and chatted. The indefatigable Nabot teased his good friend Brise-tout, who swore, raged, and threatened. The ex-trooper attempted to adapt an impossible air to a verse, not less impossible; in short, notwithstanding the gloominess of the weather, which was cloudy and moist, the little troop seemed almost satisfied with its fate.

John de Ganay alone did not participate in the general loquacity. He reflected. The viscount seemed growing tired of life. In his animated eyes there was, I know not what that was mysterious, like the titles of certain books. Without doubt, John's was no vulgar mind. Singular and critical as was his situation in the midst of that band of dissolute and furious convicts, he had shown no weakness.