id, pompously peaceful, though their swords clanked so
oft every man must have had a hand ready at his baldrick, Pierre
Radisson receiving them with the lofty air of a gracious monarch, the
others bowing and unhatting and bending and crooking their spines
supple as courtiers with a king.

Presently came the soldiers back to us as hostages, while Radisson
stepped into the boat to go aboard the Prince Rupert with the captain
and governor. Godefroy called out against such rashness, and Pierre
Radisson shouted back that threat about the nippers pulling the end off
the fellow's tongue.

Serving under the French flag, I was not supposed to know English; but
when one soldier said he had seen "Mr. What-d'y-call-'im before,"
pointing at me, I recognised the mate from whom I had hired passage to
England for M. Picot on Captain Gillam's ship.

"Like enough," says the other, "'tis a land where no man brings his
back history."

"See here, fellow," said I, whipping out a crown, "here's for you to
tell me of the New Amsterdam gentleman who sailed from Boston last
spring!"

"No New Amsterdam gentleman sailed from Boston," answered both in one
breath.

"I am not paying for lies," and I returned the crown to my pocket.

Then Radisson came back, urging Captain Gillam against proceeding up
the river.

"The Prince Rupert might ground on the shallows," he warned.

"That will keep them apart till we trap one or both," he told us, as we
set off in our canoe. But we had not gone out of range before we were
ordered ashore. Picking our way back overland, we spied through the
bush for two days, till we saw that Governor Brigdar was taking
Radisson's advice, going no farther up-stream, but erecting a fort on
the shore where he had anchored.

"And now," said Radisson, "we must act."

While we were spying through the woods, watching the English build
their fort, I thought that I saw a figure flitting through the bush to
the rear. I dared not fire. One shot would have betrayed us to the
English. But I pointed my gun. The thing came gliding noiselessly
nearer. I clicked the gun-butt without firing. The thing paused.
Then I called M. Radisson, who said it was Le Borgne, the wall-eyed
Indian. Godefroy vowed 'twas a spy from Ben Gillam's fort. The Indian
mumbled some superstition of a manitou. To me it seemed like a
caribou; for it faded to nothing the way those fleet creatures have of
skimming into distance.

CHAPTER XI