natural ability and long
experience as an innkeeper being a shrewd reader of faces he was sure
that his three unusual guests could be trusted.

Willet knew Canada better than Robert, and now he acted as spokesman.

"We will sleep here only one night," he said, "because early tomorrow
morning we take boat for Quebec. We three will occupy one large room.
You have such a room with three beds, have you not?"

"I have the room," responded Monsieur Jolivet promptly, "and the beds
can be put in it at once. Then all will be arranged quickly by Lizette
and Marie, the maids. Will you permit my man, Francois, to carry your
weapons to the chamber now?"

"I think not," replied Willet, giving his rifle an affectionate look.
"I've lived so long with this good old rifle of mine that we hate to be
parted even for an hour. Tayoga and Mr. Lennox are younger than I am,
but they're beginning to feel the same way about their arms. If you
don't mind, Monsieur Jolivet, we'll keep our weapons with us."

"Ah, I see, sir, that you're a man of sentiment," said Monsieur Jolivet,
laughing and rubbing his hands. "It is well that one can feel it in this
rough world of ours. But will Monsieur see a young officer who has come
from the commandant? Merely a little inquiry about your identity and an
examination of your papers, if you have any. It's according to our
custom, and it's just a formality, nothing more."

Robert knew that it was far from being a formality, but his comrades and
he had nothing to fear, as their mission was duly accredited and they
carried the letters to the Marquis Duquesne. The young officer, a
Frenchman of Canadian birth, entered presently, and with the courtesy
characteristic of the French race, a trait that Robert liked, asked for
an account of themselves, which was given readily. As usual the effect
of the letters addressed to the Marquis Duquesne was magical, and, as
the officer withdrew, he tendered them all the help he could give for a
speedy and pleasant voyage to Quebec.

Monsieur Jolivet gave them a supper in his best style. Although a native
of New France he was of Provencal blood, and he had a poetic strain. He
offered to his guests not an excellent inn alone, but a magnificent view
also, of which he made full use. The evening being warm with a soft and
soothing wind, Marie and Lizette set the table in a little garden, in
which early flowers were blooming already, offering delicate colors of
pink and rose and pa