et what had happened, and finding the priest's
hut empty turned into the path leading to the Roussillon place, which
was at the head of a narrow street laid out in a direction at right
angles to the river's course. He passed two or three diminutive cabins,
all as much alike as bee-hives. Each had its squat veranda and thatched
or clapboarded roof held in place by weight-poles ranged in roughly
parallel rows, and each had the face of the wall under its veranda
neatly daubed with a grayish stucco made of mud and lime. You may see
such houses today in some remote parts of the creole country of
Louisiana.

As Rene passed along he spoke with a gay French freedom to the dames
and lasses who chanced to be visible. His air would be regarded as
violently brigandish in our day; we might even go so far as to think
his whole appearance comical. His jaunty cap with a tail that wagged as
he walked, his short trousers and leggins of buckskin, and his loose
shirt-like tunic, drawn in at the waist with a broad belt, gave his
strong figure just the dash of wildness suited to the armament with
which it was weighted. A heavy gun lay in the hollow of his shoulder
under which hung an otter-skin bullet-pouch with its clear powder-horn
and white bone charger. In his belt were two huge flint-lock pistols
and a long case-knife.

"Bon jour, Ma'm'selle Adrienne," he cheerily called, waving his free
hand in greeting to a small, dark lass standing on the step of a
veranda and indolently swinging a broom. "Comment allez-vous auj
ourd'hui?"

"J'm'porte tres bien, merci, Mo'sieu Rene," was the quick response; "et
vous?"

"Oh, I'm as lively as a cricket."

"Going a hunting?"

"No, just up here a little way--just on business--up to Mo'sieu
Roussillon's for a moment."

"Yes," the girl responded in a tone indicative of something very like
spleen, "yes, undoubtedly, Mo'sieu de Ronville; your business there
seems quite pressing of late. I have noticed your industrious
application to that business."

"Ta-ta, little one," he wheedled, lowering his voice; "you mustn't go
to making bug-bears out of nothing."

"Bug-bears!" she retorted, "you go on about your business and I'll
attend to mine," and she flirted into the house.

Rene laughed under his breath, standing a moment as if expecting her to
come out again; but she did not, and he resumed his walk singing
softly--

"Elle a les joues vermeilles, vermeilles, Ma belle, ma belle petite."

But te