f
burning their villages! It would be as wise to kick over the wasps'
nest, and think that you have done with the wasps. You are from New
England, monsieur?"

"My comrade is from New England; I am from New York."

"Ah, yes. I could see from your step and your eye that the woods were
as a home to you. The New England man goes on the waters and he slays
the cod with more pleasure than the caribou. Perhaps that is why his
face is so sad. I have been on the great water, and I remember that my
face was sad also. There is little wind, and so I think that we may
light our pipes without danger. With a good breeze I have known a
burning pipe fetch up a scalping party from two miles' distance, but the
trees stop scent, and the Iroquois noses are less keen than the Sioux
and the Dacotah. God help you, monsieur, if you should ever have an
Indian war. It is bad for us, but it would be a thousand times worse
for you."

"And why?"

"Because we have fought the Indians from the first, and we have them
always in our mind when we build. You see how along this river every
house and every hamlet supports its neighbour? But you, by Saint Anne
of Beaupre, it made my scalp tingle when I came on your frontiers and
saw the lonely farm-houses and little clearings out in the woods with no
help for twenty leagues around. An Indian war is a purgatory for
Canada, but it would be a hell for the English Provinces!"

"We are good friends with the Indians," said Amos. "We do not wish to
conquer."

"Your people have a way of conquering although they say that they do not
wish to do it," remarked Du Lhut. "Now, with us, we bang our drums, and
wave our flags, and make a stir, but no very big thing has come of it
yet. We have never had but two great men in Canada. One was Monsieur
de la Salle, who was shot last year by his own men down the great river,
and the other, old Frontenac, will have to come back again if New France
is not to be turned into a desert by the Five Nations. It would
surprise me little if by this time two years the white and gold flag
flew only over the rock of Quebec. But I see that you look at me
impatiently, Monsieur de Catinat, and I know that you count the hours
until we are back at Sainte Marie again. Forward, then, and may the
second part of our journey be as peaceful as the first."

For an hour or more they picked their way through the woods, following
in the steps of the old French pioneer. It was a l