er again."

There is a pause, in which the deep breathing of the dying man mingles
with the low wash of the river, and presently he speaks again. "I vowed
then that he should know. As God is our Father, swear that you will give
this packet to himself only."

The priest, in reply, lifts the crucifix from the dying man's breast and
puts his lips to it. The world seems not to know, so cheerful is it
all, that, with a sob, that sob of farewell which the soul gives the
body,--the spirit of a man is passing the mile-posts called Life, Time,
and Eternity.

Yet another glance into passing incidents before we follow the straight
trail of our story. In the city of Montreal fourscore men are kneeling
in a little church, as the mass is slowly chanted at the altar. All of
them are armed. By the flare of the torches and the candles--for it is
not daybreak yet--you can see the flash of a scabbard, the glint of a
knife, and the sheen of a bandoleer.

Presently, from among them, one man rises, goes to the steps of the
sanctuary and kneels. He is the leader of the expedition, the Chevalier
de Troyes, the chosen of the governor. A moment, and three other men
rise and come and kneel beside him. These are three brothers, and one
we know--gallant, imperious, cordial, having the superior ease of the
courtier.

The four receive a blessing from a massive, handsome priest, whose face,
as it bends over Iberville, suddenly flushes with feeling. Presently
the others rise, but Iberville remains an instant longer, as if loth to
leave. The priest whispers to him: "Be strong, be just, be merciful."

The young man lifts his eyes to the priest's: "I will be just, abbe!"

Then the priest makes the sacred gesture over him.

CHAPTER IX

TO THE PORCH OF THE WORLD

The English colonies never had a race of woodsmen like the coureurs
du bois of New France. These were a strange mixture: French peasants,
half-breeds, Canadian-born Frenchmen, gentlemen of birth with lives and
fortunes gone askew, and many of the native Canadian noblesse, who, like
the nobles of France, forbidden to become merchants, became adventurers
with the coureurs du bois, who were ever with them in spirit more than
with the merchant. The peasant prefers the gentleman to the bourgeois
as his companion. Many a coureur du bois divided his tale of furs with a
distressed noble or seigneur, who dare not work in the fields.

The veteran Charles le Moyne, with his sons, each of wh