"There are never signs till the uprising is on us. You know that. I
have done what I could. The guards are trebled, and we sleep on our
swords. Montlivet, tell me. What have you been doing in the west?"
I had expected him to finesse to this question. I liked it that he
gave it to me with a naked blade.
"I have been forming an Indian league," I answered bluntly.
He nodded. "I know. There have been rumors. Then I knew what you did
with the St. Lawrence tribes last year. Why did you not tell me when
you went through here last spring?"
I shook my head. "I wished to prove myself. It was an experiment.
Then I desired a free hand."
"You did not wish my help?"
"I wished to test the ground without entangling you. If I
failed,--why, I was nothing but a fur trader. There had been no talk,
no explanations, nothing. A trader went west; he returned. That would
end it."
"But if you succeeded?"
I bowed to him. "If I succeeded I intended to come to you for help and
consultation, monsieur."
I saw his eyes gleam. The man loved war, and his imagination was
fertile as a jungle. I knew that already he had taken my small vision,
magnified it a thousand-fold, and peopled it with fantasies.
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