I

M. RADISSON BEGINS THE GAME

M. Radisson had reckoned well. His warning to prepare for instant
siege set all the young fire-eaters of our Habitation working like
beavers to complete the French fort. The marquis took a hand at
squaring timbers shoulder to shoulder with Allemand, the pilot; and La
Chesnaye, the merchant prince, forgot to strut while digging up
earthworks for a parapet. The leaven of the New World was working.
Honour was for him only whose brawn won the place; and our young
fellows of the birth and the pride were keenest to gird for the task.
On our return from the upper river to the fort, the palisaded walls
were finished, guns were mounted on all bastions, the two ships beached
under shelter of cannon, sentinels on parade at the main gate, and a
long barracks built mid-way across the courtyard.

Here we passed many a merry hour of a long winter night, the green
timbers cracking like pistol-shots to the tightening frost-grip, and
the hearth logs at each end of the long, low-raftered hall sending up a
roar that set the red shadows dancing among ceiling joists. After
ward-room mess, with fare that kings might have envied--teal and
partridge and venison and a steak of beaver's tail, and moose nose as
an _entree_, with a tidbit of buffalo hump that melted in your mouth
like flakes--the commonalty, as La Chesnaye designated those who sat
below the salt, would draw off to the far hearth. Here the sailors
gathered close, spinning yarns, cracking jokes, popping corn, and
toasting wits, a-merrier far that your kitchen cuddies of older lands.
At the other hearth sat M. de Radisson, feet spread to the fire, a long
pipe between his lips, and an audience of young blades eager for his
tales.

"D'ye mind how we got away from the Iroquois, Chouart?" Radisson asks
Groseillers, who sits in a chair rough-hewn from a stump on the other
side of the fire.

Chouart Groseillers smiles quietly and strokes his black beard. Jean
stretches across a bear-skin on the floor and shouts out, "Tell us!
Tell us!"

"We had been captives six months. The Iroquois were beginning to let
us wander about alone. Chouart there had sewed his thumb up, where an
old squaw had hacked at it with a dull shell. The padre's nails, which
the Indians tore off in torture, had grown well enough for him to
handle a gun. One day we were allowed out to hunt. Chouart brought
down three deer, the padre two moose, and I a couple of bear. That