th
their own ways, and looked with suspicion on improvements even in many
simple devices for farming.

With the fur season the town was in wild confusion and holiday jollity
prevailed. There were Indians with packs; and the old race of the
_coureurs des bois_, who were still picturesque with their red sashes
and jaunty habiliments. They were wild men of the woods, who had thrown
off the restraints of civilized life and who hunted as much for the
pleasure as the profit. They could live in a wigwam, they could join
Indian dances, they were brave, hardy, but in some instances savage as
the Indians themselves and quite as lawless. A century ago they had been
the pioneers of the fur hunters, with many a courageous explorer among
them. The newer organizations of the fur companies had curtailed their
power and their numbers had dwindled, but they kept up their wild
habits, and this was the carouse of the whole year.

It was a busy season. There was great chaffering, disputing, and not a
few fights, though guards were detailed along the river front to keep
the peace as far as was possible. Boats were being loaded for Montreal,
cargoes to be shipped down the Hudson and from thence abroad, with mink
and otter and beaver, beautiful fox furs, white wolf and occasionally a
white bear skin that dealers would quarrel about.

Then the stores of provisions to be sent back to the trappers and
hunters, the clothes and blankets and trinkets for the Indians, kept
shopkeepers busy day and night, and poured money into their coffers. New
men were going out,--to an adventurous young fellow this seemed the
great opportunity of his life.

Jeanne Angelot's fortune had been noised abroad somewhat, though she
paid little attention to it even in her thoughts. But she was a girl
with a dowry now, and she was not only growing tall but strangely pretty
as well. Her skin was fairer, her hair, which still fell in loose
curls, was kept in better order. Coif she would not wear, but sometimes
she tied a bright kerchief under her chin and looked bewitching.

French mothers of sons were never averse to a dowry, although men were
so in want of wives that few went begging for husbands. Women paused to
chat with Pani and make kindly inquiries about her charge. Even Madame
De Ber softened. She was opposed to Pierre's going north with the
hunters, but he was so eager and his father considered it a good thing.
And now he was a strapping big fellow, taller than