He
turned to me with a smile that would have conquered enmity in a wolf.
"This is great news, Montlivet. I could almost ask you to drink the
health of the Baron, and all his scurvy, seditious crew. For, look
you, even if the Englishman is a spy, and the Hurons have brought him
here to make a secret treaty, why, he is in our hands, and Boston is a
continent away. He will have opportunity to learn some French before
he goes back to his codfish friends. What say you, monsieur?"
I laughed rather ruefully. I saw that the game was to be exciting, and
I had never been backward at a sport. Yet I knew that I must turn my
face from it.
"What do I say?" I repeated. "Nothing, monsieur, but that I am a
trader, not a diplomat, and that to-morrow I must be on my way to the
west. I will take your answer to the Huron. Monsieur, I hope you will
sleep long and sweetly to-night. You will need a clear head to-morrow."
Cadillac looked at me, and wagged his head. "Good-day to you, trader,"
he said, with one of his noiseless laughs. "How well you must sleep
who have no thought beyond your beaver skins,--even though you do carry
brandy and muskets hidden in your cargo. Never mind, never mind.
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