irst
you must tell me whether they are cocks or yellow birds."

"Parbleu," answered the puzzled Hippolyte, "that I do not know,
Monsieur."

Everybody looked at Nick, including Suzanne.

"Very well," said he, "I will make a bid. And if they turn out to be
gamecocks, I will fight them with Monsieur Leon behind the cabaret. Two
livres!"

There was a laugh, as of relief.

"Three!" cried Gaspard, and his voice broke.

Hippolyte looked insulted.

"M'ssieurs," he shouted, "they are from the Canaries. Diable, un berger
doit etre genereux."

Another laugh, and Gaspard wiped the perspiration from his face.

"Five!" said he.

"Six!" said Nick, and the villagers turned to him in wonderment. What
could such a fine Monsieur want with two yellow birds?

"En avant, Gaspard," said Hippolyte, and Suzanne shot another barbed
glance in our direction.

"Seven," muttered Gaspard.

"Eight!" said Nick, immediately.

"Nine," said Gaspard.

"Ten," said Nick.

"Ten," cried Hippolyte, "I am offered ten livres for the yellow birds.
Une bagatelle! Onze, Gaspard! Onze! onze livres, pour l'amour de
Suzanne!"

But Gaspard was silent. No appeals, entreaties, or taunts could persuade
him to bid more. And at length Hippolyte, with a gesture of disdain,
handed Nick the cage, as though he were giving it away.

"Monsieur," he said, "the birds are yours, since there are no more
lovers who are worthy of the name. They do not exist."

"Monsieur," answered Nick, "it is to disprove that statement that I
have bought the birds. Mademoiselle," he added, turning to the flushing
Suzanne, "I pray that you will accept this present with every assurance
of my humble regard."

Mademoiselle took the cage, and amidst the laughter of the village at
the discomfiture of poor Gaspard, swept Nick a frightened courtesy,--one
that nevertheless was full of coquetry. And at that instant, to cap the
situation, a rotund little man with a round face under a linen biretta
grasped Nick by the hand, and cried in painful but sincere English:--

"Monsieur, you mek my daughter ver' happy. She want those bird ever
sence Captain Lopez he die. Monsieur, I am Jean Baptiste Lenoir, Colonel
Chouteau's miller, and we ver' happy to see you at the pon'."

"If Monsieur will lead the way," said Nick, instantly, taking the little
man by the arm.

"But you are to dine at Madame Chouteau's," I expostulated.

"To be sure," said he. "Au revoir, Monsieur. Au revoir, Mademoisel