as facing
Carette's father, Jean Le Marchant, of whose doings I had heard many a wild
story on Sercq.

He was a very striking-looking man, tall and straight, and well-built. His
face was keen as a hawk's, and tanned and seamed and very much alive. His
eyes were very sharp and dark, under shaggy white eyebrows. They seemed to
go through me like a knife, and made me wish I had not come. His hair was
quite white, and was cut so short that it bristled all over, and added much
to his fierce wide-awake look, as though he scented dangers all round and
was ready to tackle them with a firm hand. He had a long white moustache
and no other hair on his face.

While I was still staring at him, Carette's voice came from its
hiding-place--

"It is Phil Carre come to look for me, father. He is my good friend. You
will give him welcome."

"Ah-ha! Mademoiselle commands," and the keen face softened somewhat and
broke into a smile, which was still somewhat grim. "Monsieur Phil Carre, I
greet you! I can hardly say you are welcome, as I do not care for visitors.
But since you came to get news of the little one, I promise not to kill and
eat you, as you seem to expect."

"Merci, monsieur!" I faltered. For, from all accounts, he was quite capable
of the first, though the second had not actually suggested itself to me.

"How did you come? I did not see any boat."

"By the Gale de Jacob. I swam across."

"Ma foi! Swam across! You have courage, mon gars;" and I saw that I had
risen in his estimation.

"He swims like a fish and he has no fear," chirped Carette from her
hiding-place.

"All the same, bon Dieu, the Gouliot is no pond," and he looked through me
again. "How old are you, mon gars?"

"Thirteen next year."

"And what are you going to make of yourself when you grow up?"

"I don't know."

"For boys of spirit there are always openings," he said, and I knew very
well what he meant, and shook my head.

"Ah, so! You are not free-traders at Belfontaine," he laughed. At which I
shook my head again, feeling a trifle ashamed of our uncommon virtue, which
could not, I thought, commend itself to so notorious a defier of preventive
law.

"All the same, he is a fine man, your grandfather, and a seaman beyond
most. You will follow the sea?--or are you for the farming?"

"The sea sure, but it will be in the trading, I expect."

"It is larger than the farming, but not very large after all."

"When will I be able to see Carette, m'