"Glengarry!" cried Ranald, and like a lion he leaped upon them, followed by Yankee and the others. Right and left he hurled the crowd aside, and seizing LeNoir, brought him out to his own men.
"Who are you?" gasped LeNoir. "Why, no, it ees not possible. Yes, it is Yankee for sure! And de Macdonald gang, but--"turning to Ranald--"who are YOU?" he said again.
"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 silence when he finished; then he said slowly and distinctly, "My father told me to say that he forgave you everything, and that he prayed the mercy of God for you, and," added Ranald, more slowly, "I--forgive--you--too."
The Frenchman listened in wonder, greatly moved, but he could only reiterate his words: "I cannot spik what I feel here.""Sit down, Mr. LeNoir," said Macdonald Bhain, gravely, pointing to a bench, "and I will be telling you something."LeNoir sat down and waited.
"Do you see that young man there?" said Macdonald Bhain, pointing to Ranald. He is the strongest man in my gang, and indeed, I will not be putting him below myself." Here Ranald protested. "And he has learned to use his hands as I cannot. And of all the men Ihave ever seen since I went to the woods, there is not one I could put against him. He could kill you, Mr. LeNoir."The Frenchman nodded his head and said: "Das so. Das pretty sure.""Yes, that is very sure," said Macdonald Bhain. "And he made a vow to kill you," went on Macdonald Bhain, "and to-night he saved your life. Do you know why?""No, not me."
"Then I will be telling you. It is the grace of God."LeNoir stared at him, and then Macdonald Bhain went on to tell him how his brother had suffered and struggled long, and how the minister's wife had come to him with the message of the forgiveness of the great God. And then he read from Ranald's English Bible the story of the unforgiving debtor, explaining it in grave and simple speech.
"That was why," he concluded. "It was because he was forgiven, and on his dying bed he sent you the word of forgiveness. And that, too, is the very reason, I believe, why the lad here went to your help this day.""I promised the minister's wife I would do you good and not ill, when it came to me," said Ranald. "But I was not feeling at all like forgiving you. I was afraid to meet you.""Afraid?" said LeNoir, wondering that any of that gang should confess to fear.
"Yes, afraid of what I would do. But now, tonight, it is gone,"said Ranald, simply, "I can't tell you how."
"Das mos' surprise!" exclaimed LeNoir. "Ne comprenne pas. I never see lak dat, me!""Yes, it is wonderful," said Macdonald Bhain. "It is very wonderful.
It is the grace of God," he said again.
"You mak' de good frien' wit me?" asked LeNoir, rising and putting his hand out to Macdonald Bhain. Macdonald Bhain rose from his place and stepped toward the Frenchman, and took his hand.
"Yes, I will be friends with you," he said, gravely, "and I will seek God's mercy for you."Then LeNoir turned to Ranald, and said; "Will you be frien' of me?
Is it too moche?"
"Yes," said Ranald, slowly, "I will be your friend, too. It is a little thing," he added, unconsciously quoting his father's words.
Then LeNoir turned around to Macdonald Bhain, and striking an attitude, exclaimed: "See! You be my boss, I be your man--what you call--slave. I work for noting, me. Das sure."Macdonald Bhain shook his head.
"You could not belong to us," he said, and explained to him the terms upon which the Macdonald men were engaged. LeNoir had never heard of such terms.
"You not drink whisky?"
"Not too much," said Macdonald Bhain.
"How many glass? One, two, tree?"
"I do not know," said Macdonald Bhain. "It depends upon the man.
He must not take more than is good for him."
"Bon!" said LeNoir, "das good. One glass he mak' me feel good.
Two das nice he mak' me feel ver fonny. Three glass yes das mak' me de frien' of hevery bodie. Four das mak' me feel big; I walk de big walk; I am de bes' man all de place. Das good place for stop, eh?""No," said Macdonald Bhain, gravely, "you need to stop before that.""Ver' good. Ver' good me stop him me. You tak' me on for your man?"Macdonald Bhain hesitated. LeNoir came nearer him and lowering his voice said: "I'm ver' bad man me. I lak to know how you do dat--what you say--forgive. You show me how."
"Come to me next spring," said Macdonald Bhain.
"Bon!" said LeNoir. "I be dere on de Nation camp."And so he was. And when Mrs. Murray heard of it from Macdonald Bhain that summer, she knew that Ranald had kept his word and had done LeNoir good and not evil.
