His foot touched the wickered jug and he called Jean Saville.
"Take this, Jean," he said, "and give each of the men a cup. 'Tis a
shame to waste it."
But for himself he had no taste for the stranger's gift of payment.
He was thinking of the red flower in Maren Le Moyne's black hair and a
vexation, past all reason held him.
But the spring was open and there was soon more to occupy his mind than
a maid and a posy and a reckless blade from Montreal.
At dusk of a day within that week a trapper brought word of a hundred
canoes on the river a day's journey up-country, laden with packs of
winter beaver, and bound for the post.
The Indians were coming down to trade.
Picturesque they were, in their fringed buckskin cunningly tanned and
beaded, their feathers and their ornaments of elk teeth and claws of
the huge, thick-coated bears. At day-dawn they came, having camped for
the night a short distance above the fort, to the letter display of
their arrival, and they swept down in a flotilla of graceful craft made
of the birch bark and light as clouds upon the water.
All was in readiness for them, for the factor had been expecting them
for a fortnight back; and, when the crackling shots of the braves
announced their coming, McElroy gave orders that the three small cannon
mounted on a half-moon of narrow breastwork to the south of the main
gate, and just before a small opening in the stockade for use in case
of attack, should be fired in salute.
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