Longueil.

"And here, monsieur, is another brother of Monsieur Iberville," he said.

Longueil was insensible but not dangerously wounded. Perrot gave a
signal and the two brothers were lifted and carried down towards the
ford, followed by Perrot and Gering. On their way they met Iberville.

All the brother, the comrade, in Iberville spoke first. He felt
Longueil's hand and touched his pulse, then turned, as though he had not
seen Gering, to the dead body of Sainte-Helene. Motioning to the men to
put it down, he stooped and took Perrot's scarf from the dead face. It
was yet warm, and the handsome features wore a smile. Iberville looked
for a moment with a strange, cold quietness. He laid his hand upon the
brow, touched the cheek, gave a great sigh, and made the sacred gesture
over the body; then taking his own handkerchief he spread it over the
face. Presently he motioned for the bodies to be carried on.

Perrot whispered to him, and now he turned and look at Gering with a
malignant steadiness.

"You have had the great honour, sir," he said, "to kill one of the
bravest gentlemen of France. More than once to-day myself and my friend
here"--pointing to Perrot "could have killed you. Why did we not? Think
you, that you might kill my brother, whose shoe-latchet were too high for
you? Monsieur, the sum mounts up." His voice was full of bitterness and
hatred. "Why did we spare you?" he repeated, and paused.

Gering could understand Iberville's quiet, vicious anger. He would
rather have lost a hand than have killed Sainte-Helene, who had, on board