Madame, I am succeeding in my intriguing among
the tribes. I talk more than I trade. You would smile at my rhetoric
and call me a mountebank, but I am succeeding. I tell the tribes that
when more than one Englishman reaches here the whole race will follow
and will overflow the hunting grounds as a torrent does the lowlands.
I tell them the English will bring the Iroquois. I show them that the
French are their only protection. They listen, for what I say is not
new. It has been talked around their fires for a long time, but the
tribes are not powerful enough to act alone, and they have lacked a
leader who could unite them. I think that they will follow me if I
call them to war, madame!"
She looked at me steadily. "War upon whom, monsieur?"
"War upon the Iroquois. Upon the English if they venture near."
"And you tell me this because"----
"Because I wish sincerity between us."
My hat lay at her feet, and she pressed its sorry plume between her
fingers. "Monsieur, if you had heard news of Lord Starling during this
last week you would have told me at once."
"I should have told you at once, madame. I am glad you introduced this
matter. Does your mind still hold? Or do you now think that we should
seek your cousin?"
Again she lowered her eyes, but I did not miss the sudden flash in
them.
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