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  CHAPTER X.

  BOISVEYRAC.

  Along the river-front of Boisveyrac, on the slopes between the stonewalls of the Seigniory and the broad St. Lawrence, Dominique Guyon,the Seigneur's farmer, strode to and fro encouraging the harvesters.

  "Work, my children! Work!"

  He said it over and over again, using the words his father had alwaysused at this season. But the harvesters--old Damase Juneau and hiswife La Marmite, Jo Lagasse, the brothers Pierre and TelesphoreCourteau, with Telesphore's half-breed wife Leelinau (Lelie, inFrench)--all knew the difference in tone. It had been worth while informer times to hear old Bonhomme Guyon say the words, putting hisheart into them, while the Seigneur himself would follow behind,echoing, "Yes, that is so. Work, my children: work is the greatcure!" But Bonhomme Guyon was dead these two months--rest his soul;and the Seigneur gone up the river to command a fortress for the Kingof France; and no one left at Boisveyrac but themselves and half adozen militiamen and this young Dominique Guyon, who would not smileand was a skinflint.

  It was as if the caterpillars had eaten the mirth as well as theprofits out of this harvest which (if folks said true) the Seigneurneeded so badly. Even the children had ceased to find it amusing,and had trooped after the priest, Father Launoy, up the hill and intothe courtyard of the Chateau.

  "Work, my friends!" said Dominique. He knew well that they detestedhim and would have vastly preferred his brother Bateese for overseer.For his part, he took life seriously: but no one was better aware ofthe bar between him and others' love or liking.

  They respected him because he was the best _canotier_ on the river; abetter even than his malformed brother Bateese, now with the army.When he drew near they put more spirit into their pitchforking.

  "But all the same it breaks the back, this suspense," declared LaMarmite. "I never could work with more than one thing in my mind.Tell us, Dominique Guyon: the good Father will be coming out soon,will he not?--that is, if he means to shoot the falls before sunset."

  "What can it matter to you, mother?"

  "Matter? Why if he doesn't come soon, I shall burst myself withcuriosity, that is all!"

  "But you know all that can be told. There has been a great victory,for certain."

  "Eh? Eh? You are clever enough, doubtless; but you don't think youcan question and cross-question a man the way that Father Launoy doesit? Why the last time I confessed to him he turned me upside downand emptied me like a sack."

  "There has been a great victory: that is all we need to know.Work, my friends, work with a good heart!"

  But when his back was turned they drew together and talked, glancingnow towards the Seigniory above the slope, now towards the river bankwhere a couple of tall Etchemin Indians stood guard beside a canoe,and across the broad flood to the woods on the farther shorestretching away southward in a haze of blue. Down in the souththere, far beyond the blue horizon, a battle had been fought and agreat victory won.

  Jo Lagasse edged away towards Corporal Chretien, who kept watch,musket in hand, on the western fringe of the clearing. Harvests atBoisveyrac had been gathered under arms since time out of mind, withsentries posted far up the shore and in the windmill behind theSeigniory, to give warning of the Iroquois. To-day the corporal andhis men were specially alert, and at an alarm the workers would haveplenty of time to take shelter within the gateway of the Chateau.

  "Well, it seems that we may all lift up our hearts. The English aredone for, and next season there is to be a big stamping-out of theIroquois."

  "Who told you that, Jo Lagasse?"

  "Everyone is saying it. Pierre Courteau has even some tale that twothousand of them were slaughtered after the battle yonder--Onnontagues and Agniers for the most part. At this rate you idlerswill soon be using your bayonets to turn the corn with the rest ofus."

  "Yes; that's right--call us idlers! And the Iroquois known to bewithin a dozen miles! You would sing to another tune, my friend, ifwe idlers offered to march off and leave you just now." The corporalswung round on his thin legs and peered into the belt of trees.

  Jo Lagasse grinned.

  "No, no, corporal; I was jesting only. To think of me undervaluingthe military! Why often and often, as a single man with no ties,I have fancied myself enlisting. But now it will be too late."

  "If M. de Montcalm has really swallowed the English," answered theother drily, "it will be too late, as you say."

  "But these English, now--I have always had a curiosity to see them.Is it true, corporal, that they have faces like devils, and that hewho has the misfortune to be killed by one will assuredly rise thethird day? The priests say so."

  Corporal Chretien had never actually confronted his country's foes."Much would depend," he answered cautiously, "upon circumstances, andupon what you mean by a devil."

  While Jo Lagasse scratched his head over this, the wicket opened inthe great gate of the Seigniory, and Father Launoy came forth with atroop of children at his heels. The harvesters crowded about him atonce.

  He lifted a hand. He was a tall priest and square-shouldered, withthe broad brow and set square chin of a fighting man.

  "My children," he announced in a voice clear as a bell, "it iscertain there has been a great battle at Fort Carillon. The Englishcame on, four to one, gnashing their teeth like devils of the pit.But the host of the faithful stood firm and overcame them, and nowthey are flying southward whence they came. Let thanks be given toGod who giveth us the victory!"

  The men bared their heads.

  "When I met 'Polyte Latulippe and young Damase on my way down theriver, I could scarcely believe their tale. But the Ojibway puts itbeyond doubt; and the few answers I could win from the woundedsergeant all confirm the story."

  "His name, Father?" asked La Marmite. "We can get nothing out ofDominique Guyon, who keeps his tongue as close as his fist."

  "His name is a Clive, and he is of the regiment of Beam. He has comenear to death's door, poor fellow, and still lies too near to it fortalking. But I think he is strong enough to bear carrying up to FortAmitie, where the Seigneur--who, by the way, sends greeting to youall--"

  "And our salutations go back to him. Would he were here to-day tosee the harvest carried!"

  "The Seigneur, having heard what 'Polyte and Damase have to tell,will desire to hear more of this glorious fight. For myself, I musthasten down to Montreal, where I have a message to deliver, andperhaps I may reach there with these tidings also before the boats,which are coming up by way of the Richelieu. Therefore I am going toborrow Dominique Guyon of you, to pilot me down through the RochesFendues. And talking of Dominique"--here the Jesuit laid a hand onthe shoulder of the young man, who bent his eyes to the ground--"you complain that he is close, eh? How often, my children, must Iask you to judge a brother by his virtues? To which of you did itoccur, when these men came, to send 'Polyte and Damase up to FortAmitie with their news? No one has told me: yet I will wager it wasDominique Guyon. Who sat up, the night through, with this woundedstranger? Dominique Guyon. Who has been about the field all day, asthough to have missed a night's sleep were no excuse for shirking thedaily task? Dominique Guyon. Again, to whom do I turn now to steerme down the worst fall in the river? To Dominique Guyon. He willarrive back here to-night tired as a dog, but once more at daybreakit will be Dominique who sets forth to carry the wounded man up toFort Amitie. And why? Because, when a thing needs to be done well,he is to be trusted; you would turn to him then and trust him ratherthan any of yourselves, and you know it. Do you grumble, then, thatthe Seigneur knows it? I say to you that a man is born thus, orthus; responsible or not responsible; and a man that is bornresponsible, though he add pound to pound and field to field, is aman to be thankful for. Moreover, if he keep his own counsel, youmay go to him at a pinch with the more certainty that he will keepyours."

  "What did I tell you?" whispered La Marmite to Jo Lagasse, who hadjoined the little crowd. "The Father's eye turns you inside out: heknows how
we have been grumbling all day. But all the same," sheadded aloud, "he is young and ought to laugh."

  "I have told you," said Father Launoy, "that you should judge a manby his virtues: but, where that is hard, at least you should judgehim by help of your own pity. All this day Dominique has beencopying his dead father; and the same remembrance that has been tohim a sorrowful incitement, has been to you but food for uncharitablethoughts. If I am not saying the truth, correct me."

  They were silent. The priest had a great gift of personal talk,straight and simple; and treated them as brothers and sisters of afamily, holding up the virtues of this one, or the faults of that, tothe common gaze. They might not agree with this laudation ofDominique: but no one cared to challenge it at the risk of findinghimself pilloried for public laughter. Father Launoy knew all thepeccadilloes of this small flock, and had a tongue which strippedyour clothes off--to use an expression of La Marmite's.

  They followed him down to the shore where the Etchemins held thecanoe ready. There they knelt, and he blessed them before embarking.Dominique stepped on board after him, and the two Indians took uptheir paddles.

  Long after the boat had been pushed off and was speeding down thebroad waterway, the harvesters stood and watched it. The sunsetfollowed it, gleaming along its wake and on its polished quarter,flashing as the paddles rose and dipped; until it rounded the cornerby Bout de l'lsle, where the rapids began.

  The distant voice of these rapids filled the air with its humming;but their ears were accustomed to it and had ceased to heed. Nor didthey mark the evening croak of the frogs alongshore among the reedbeds, until Jo Lagasse imitated it to perfection.

  "To work, my children!" he croaked. "Work is the only cure!"

  They burst out laughing, and hurried back to gather the last loadbefore nightfall.