In the open lamps suspended here and there the oil was running low, and the rag wicks sputtered and winked with their yellow flames.
"Well," said M.Roussillon, coming to where Alice and Beverley stood insulated and isolated by their great delight in each other's company, "it's time to go home." Beverley looked at his watch; it was a quarter to three! Alice also looked at the watch, and saw engraved and enameled on its massive case the Beverley crest, but she did not know what it meant.
There was something of the sort in the back of her locket, she remembered with satisfaction.
Just then there was a peculiar stir in the flagging crowd.

Someone had arrived, a coureur de bois from the north.

Where was the commandant?
the coureur had something important for him.
Beverley heard a remark in a startled voice about the English getting ready for a descent upon the Wabash valley.

This broke the charm which thralled him and sent through his nerves the bracing shock that only a soldier can feel when a hint of coming battle reaches him.
Alice saw the flash in his face.
"Where is Captain Helm?
I must see him immediately.

Excuse me," he said, abruptly turning away and looking over the heads of the people; "yonder he is, I must go to him." The coureur de bois, Adolphe Dutremble by name, was just from the head waters of the Wabash.