ter that meeting, and the Governor's visit,
and the lily-flag of France on the Manor, and the body-guard and the
carbines," said Muroc nervously.

"We're all in trouble again-sure," said Benoit, and drained his glass to
the last drop. "Some of us will go to gaol."

The coming of the militia had been wholly unexpected by the people of
Pontiac, but the cause was not far to seek. Ever since the Governor's
visit there had been sinister rumours abroad concerning Louis Racine,
which the Cure and the Avocat and others had taken pains to contradict.
It was known that the Seigneur had been requested to disband his
so-called company of soldiers with their ancient livery and their modern
arms, and to give them up. He had disbanded the corps, but he had not
given up the arms, and, for reasons unknown, the Government had not
pressed the point, so far as the world knew. But it had decided to
hold a district drill in this far-off portion of the Province; and this
summer morning two thousand men marched 'upon the town and through
it, horse, foot, and commissariat, and Pontiac was roused out of the
last-century romance the Seigneur had sought to continue, to face the
actual presence of modern force and the machinery of war. Twice before
had British soldiers marched into the town, the last time but a few
years agone, when blood had been shed on the stones in front of the
parish church. But here were large numbers of well-armed men from the
Eastern parishes, English and French, with four hundred regulars to
leaven the mass. Lajeunesse knew only too well what this demonstration
meant.

Before the last soldier had passed through the street, he was on his way
to the Seigneury.

He found Madelinette alone in the great dining-room, mending a rent in
the British flag, which she was preparing for a flag-staff. When she
saw him, she dropped the flag, as if startled, came quickly to him, took
both his hands in hers, and kissed his cheek.

"Wonder of wonders!" she said.

"It's these soldiers," he replied shortly. "What of them?" she asked
brightly.

"Do you mean to say you don't know what their coming here means?" he
asked.

"They must drill somewhere, and they are honouring Pontiac," she replied
gaily, but her face flushed as she bent over the flag again.

He came and stood in front of her. "I don't know what's in your mind;
I don't know what you mean to do; but I do know that M'sieu' Racine is
making trouble here, and out of it you'll