eal.

And how I wish I could tell you of that dinner, and of all that M.
Radisson talked; of captivity among Iroquois and imprisonment in Spain
and wars in Turkey; of his voyage over land and lake to a far north
sea, and of the conspiracy among merchant princes of Quebec to ruin
him. By-and-bye Rebecca Stocking's father came in, and the three sat
talking plans for the northern trade till M. Radisson let drop that the
English commissioners were keen to join the enterprise. Then the two
Puritans would have naught to do with it.

Long ago, as you know, we dined at midday; but so swiftly had the hour
flown with M. Radisson's tales of daring that Tibbie was already
lighting candles when we rose from the dinner table.

"And now," cried M. Radisson, lifting a stirrup-cup of home-brewed
October, "health to the little gentleman who saved a life to-day!
Health to mine host! And a cup fathoms deep to his luck when Ramsay
sails yon sea!"

"He might do worse," said Eli Kirke grimly.

And the words come back like the echo of a prophecy.

I would have escaped my uncle, but he waylaid me in the dark at the
foot of the stairs.

"Ramsay," said he gently.

"Sir?" said I, wondering if flint could melt.

"'The Lord bless thee, and keep thee: the Lord make his face shine upon
thee, and be gracious unto thee: the Lord lift up his countenance upon
thee, and give thee peace!'"

CHAPTER III

TOUCHING WITCHCRAFT

That interrupted lesson with Rebecca finished my schooling. I was set
to learning the mysteries of accounts in Eli Kirke's warehouse.

"How goes the keeping of accounts, Ramsay?" he questioned soon after I
had been in tutelage.

I had always intended to try my fortune in the English court when I
came of age, and the air of the counting-house ill suited a royalist's
health.

"Why, sir," I made answer, picking my words not to trip his
displeasure, "I get as much as I can--and I give as little as I can;
and those be all the accounts that ever I intend to keep."

Aunt Ruth looked up from her spinning-wheel in a way that had become an
alarm signal. Eli Kirke glanced dubiously to the blasphemy box, as
though my words were actionable. There was no sound but the drone of
the loom till I slipped from the room. Then they both began to talk.
Soon after came transfer from the counting-house to the fur trade.
That took me through the shadowy forests from town to town, and when I
returned my old comrades seemed sho