at period was quite an elevation and overlooked the
river.

CHAPTER III.

ON THE RIVER.

The remainder of the day was devoted to gayety, and with the male
population carousing in too many instances, though there were
restrictions against selling intoxicants to the Indians inside the
stockade. The Frenchman drank a little and slowly, and was merry and
vivacious. Groups up on the Parade were dancing to the inspiriting
music, or in another corner two or three fiddles played the merriest of
tunes.

Outside, and the larger part of the town was outside now, the farms
stretched back with rude little houses not much more than cabins. There
was not much call for solidity when a marauding band of Indians might
put a torch to your house and lay it in ashes. But with the new peace
was coming a greater feeling of security.

There were little booths here and there where squaws were cooking
sagamite and selling it in queer dishes made of gourds. There were the
little maize cakes well-browned, piles of maple sugar and wild summer
plums just ripening. The De Ber children, with Jeanne and Pani, took
their dinner here and there out of doors with much merriment. It was
here Marsac joined them again, his hands full of fruit, which he gave to
the children.

"Come over to the Strait," he exclaimed. "That is a sight worth seeing.
Everything is out."

"O yes," cried Jeanne, eagerly. "And, Louis, can you not get a boat or a
canoe? Let us go out on the water. I'm tired of the heat and dust."

They threaded their way up to Merchants' wharf, for at King's wharf the
crowd was great. At the dock yard, where, under the English, some fine
vessels had been built, a few were flying pennons of red and white, and
some British ships that had not yet left flaunted their own colors. As
for the river, that was simply alive with boats of every description;
Indian rowers and canoers, with loads of happy people singing, shouting,
laughing, or lovers, with heads close together, whispering soft
endearments or promising betrothal.

"Stay here while I see if I can get a boat," said Louis, darting off,
disappearing in the crowd.

They had been joined by another neighbor, Madame Ganeau and her daughter
Delisse, and her daughter's lover, a gay young fellow.

"He will have hard work," declared Jacques. "I tried. Not a canoe or a
pirogue or a flat boat. I wish him the joy of success."

"Then we will have to paddle ourselves," said Jeanne. "Or float