Dress as a coureur and I pass you for a Frenchman."
"My father!" cried Ben with his jaws agape and his wits at sea.
"Pardieu--yes, I said your father!"
"What do you want in return?" stammered Ben.
Radisson uttered a laugh that had the sound of sword-play.
"Egad, 'tis a hot supper I'd like better than anything else just now!
If you feed us well and disguise yourself as a coureur, I'll take you
at sundown!"
And in spite of his second officer's signals, Ben Gillam hailed us
forthwith to the fort, where M. Radisson's keen eyes took in every
feature of door and gate and sally-port and gun. While the cook was
preparing our supper and Ben disguising as a French wood-runner, we
wandered at will, M. Radisson all the while uttering low laughs and
words as of thoughts.
It was--"Caught--neat as a mouse in a trap! Don't let him spill the
canoe when we're running the traverse, Ramsay! May the fiends blast La
Chesnaye if he opens his foolish mouth in Gillam's hearing! Where,
think you, may we best secure him? Are the timbers of your room sound?"
Or else--"Faith, a stout timber would hold those main gates open!
Egad, now, an a man were standing in this doorway, he might jam a
musket in the hinge so the thing would keep open! Those guns in the
bastions though--think you those cannon are not pushed too far through
the windows to be slued round quickly?"
And much more to the same purpose, which told why M.
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