than the Seignory of the Marquis de St.
Denis, half a dozen leagues below the city. The stories that came to
her ears of massacres and battles, of settlers butchered in the
fields, and of the dashing adventures of La Salle and Du Luth, were to
her no more than wild tales from a far-away land. So she chattered
through the long dinner; and for the first time since he had reached
the city, Menard wished himself back on Lake Ontario, where there were
no women.

Menard returned to the citadel early in the evening. Lieutenant Danton
was drawing plans for a redoubt, but he leaned back as Menard
entered.

"I began to think you were not coming back, Captain," he said. "I'm
told the Major says that you are the only man in New France who could
have got that trading agreement from the Onondagas last year. How did
you do it?"

"How does a man usually do what he is told to do?" Menard sat on a
corner of the long table and looked lazily at the boy.

"That wasn't the kind of treaty our Governors make; you know it
wasn't."

"You were not here under Frontenac."

"No. I wish I had been. He must have been a great orator. My father
has told me about the long council at Montreal. He said that Frontenac
out-talked the greatest of the Mohawk orators. Did you learn it from
him?"

"My boy, when you are through with your pretty pictures," Menard
motioned toward the plans, "and have got out into the real work; when
you've spent months in Iroquois lodges; when you've been burned and
shot and starved,--then it will be a pity if you haven't learned to be
a soldier. What is this little thing you are drawing?"

Danton flushed. "You may laugh at the engineers," he said, "but where
would King Louis be now if--"

"Tut, my boy, tut!"

"That is very well--"

Menard laughed. "How old are you, Danton?" he asked.

"Twenty-two."

"Very good. You have got on well. I dare say you've learned a deal out
of your books. Now we have you out here in the provinces, where the
hard work is done. Well send you back in a few years a real man. And
then you'll step smartly among the pretty officers of the King, and
when one speaks of New France you'll lift your brows and say: 'New
France? Ah, yes. That is in America. I was there once. Rather a
primitive life--no court, no army.' Ah, ha, my boy--no, never mind.
Come up to my quarters and have a sip of real old Burgundy."

"Are you ever serious, Menard?" asked Danton, sitting on the Captain's
cot and smacki