“I’ll be shot if I go to such a hole for the best bourgeois¹ in the country,” said he in reply to François’ question.

“You’ll be dismissed the service if you don’t,” remarked Massan with a smile.

To this Gaspard vouchsafed² no reply save a growl³ that, to say the best of it, did not sound amiable⁴.

“Well, I think that we’re all pretty much of one mind on the point,” continued François; “and yet I feel half ashamed to refuse after all, especially when I see the good will with which Messieurs Stanley and Morton agree to go.”

“I suppose you expect to be a bourgeois too some day,” growled⁵ Gaspard with a sneer⁶.

“Eh, tu gros chien!” cried François, as with flashing eyes and clinched⁷ fists he strode up to his ill-tempered comrade.

“Come, come, François; don’t quarrel for nothing,” said Massan, interposing his broad shoulders and pushing him vigorously back.

At that moment an exclamation⁸ from one of the men diverted the attention of the others.

“Voilà! the canoe.”

“Ay, it’s Monsieur Stanley’s canoe. I saw him and Monsieur Morton start for the swamp this morning.”

“I wonder what Dick Prince would have done in this business had he been here,” said François to Massan in a low tone, as they stood watching the approach of their bourgeois’ canoe.

“Can’t say. I half think he would have gone.”

“There’s no chance of him coming back in time, I fear.”

“None; unless he prevails on some goose to lend him a pair of wings for a day or two. He won’t be back from the hunt for three weeks good.”

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