arolina."

"And the Indians, who will ever hate them! The French settlements at the
West, up and down the mighty river, who will never forget La Salle,
Tonti, Cadillac, and the De Bienvilles. There's a big work yet to do."

"I think they will do it," returned St. Armand, his eyes kindling. "With
such men as your brave, conciliatory General Wayne, a path is opened for
a more reasonable agreement."

"You cannot trust the Indians. I think the French have understood them
better, and made them more friendly. In many respects they are children,
in others almost giants where they consider themselves wronged. And it
is a nice question, how much rights they have in the soil."

"It has been a question since the world began. Were not the children of
Israel commanded to drive the Canaanites out of their own land? Did not
the Romans carry conquests all over Europe? And the Spaniard here, who
has been driven out for his cruelty and rapacity. The world question is
a great tree at which many nations have a hack, and some of them get
only the unripe fruit as the branches fall. But the fruit matures
slowly, and some one will gather it in the end, that is certain."

"But has not the Indian a right to his happiness, to his liberty?" said
Laurent, rather mischievously. He had been chaffing with the girls, yet
listening to the talk of the elders.

"In Indian ethics might makes right as elsewhere. They murder and
destroy each other; some tribes have been almost wiped out and sold for
slaves, as these Pawnee people. Depend upon it they will never take
kindly to civilization. A few have intermarried, and though there is
much romance about Rolfe and his Indian princess, St. Castin and his,
they are more apt to affiliate with the Indians in the next generation."

"My young man who was so ready to fight was a half-breed, I heard," said
Laurent. "His French father is quite an important fur trader, I learned.
Yet the young fellow has been lounging round for the past three months,
lying in the sun outside the stockade, flirting and making love alike to
Indian and French maids, and haunting Jogue's place down on the river.
Though, for that matter, it seems to be headquarters for fur traders. A
handsome fellow, too. Why has he not the pride of the French?"

"Such marriages are a disgrace to the nation," said Madame Fleury,
severely.

"And that recalls to my mind,--" St. Armand paused with a retrospective
smile, thinking of the compliment his l