eir religion. But
they warned him against the people of Sabrevous, for they were so much
opposed to the New Yorkers that they could not believe anyone who
hailed from that colony, or any colony south of the St. Lawrence, could
be friendly to them.

That was enough for Ethan Allen.

His mission was not to convert those who were friendly, but to gather
in those who were ranked among his enemies.

Turning eastward, he started for Sabrevous, and with greater enthusiasm
than he had felt up to that time.

Allen and his party were dressed ostensibly as merchants, and he
professed to be in search of rare skins, to fill an order.

To give color to this assertion, Old Buckskin had brought with him a
skin of the rarest color and kind, and Allen declared he should never
rest until he had matched it.

No one knew better than Allen, unless it was Old Buckskin, that it
would be the most difficult thing to find that shade of natural wool,
and so the ruse was successful.

Early one morning, for the march was slow, a man approached the party
and stopped Allen.

In French he asked if he was the merchant in search of a peculiar skin.

Allen answered in the affirmative.

"I can take you to the place where you can get as many as you want."

"I will reward you."

"Follow me."

"Where to?"

"Follow me and you shall have the skins at your own price."

"Remember that you have said at my own price."

"Yes; my friends are poor and they will sell cheaply, for food to a
starving person is better than the most costly skins."

Old Buckskin whispered:

"Be on your guard."

Allen nodded.

Remember Baker was bolder and asked the French Canadian how he knew
they wanted skins.

The man laughed, and answered with an appearance of genuine truth:

"I was at La Mull and heard the monsieur ask about skins."

"Then why did you not speak?"

"I had to see if my friends would sell."

"And you saw the sample?"

"I saw the skin that trapper carried."

That seemed satisfactory, and Allen was quite prepared to follow the
Canadian.

Eben was the next to express a doubt. He drew Allen on one side.

"I have seen him somewhere before; do not trust him."

"Imagination, my dear Eben, pure imagination. The man is a French
Canadian."

The man had stood on one side, apparently taking no notice of the
whispered conversation, but a close observer would have seen that he
was watching through the corner of his eye every movement, and if