Adventure Magazine Cover — page 108: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

102 “Beyond doubt, monsieur; for my friend, the Ottar here, smuggled a message from me to Monsieur de Tonty, who bade me come at once to you that you might hold up all west-bound canoes.”’ “Aye, Alphonse would have done so,” ap- proved Joncaire. ‘Well, I always told him he would have trouble with the Messesagues.. He was too easy with them. ‘They are used to the heavy rule of the Iroquois, and they misunderstand kindness. Ma foi! This is bad news you bring, Jean. Was there much loss in furs?” “Sad! ’Tis very sad!” I said ambiguously. “All gone!” “And that reminds me,” he went on, “you have not shown me your trading-permit.” ‘“Trading-permit, monsieur?” I said. “Why—why—monsieur forgets that I am not a free-trader. I was in Monsieur de Tonty’s employ. I had no permit. Nor, indeed, monsteur, have I any furs. There- fore what need would Jean Courbevoir have for a trading-permit?” “Humph!” he growled. long in Canada, Jean?”’ “But this year, monsieur.”’ ‘“‘And you already speak the tongue of the savages?” I nearly fell into this trap, but bethought myself of the danger in time. “Oh, no, monsieur; only a word here and there.”’ “But this savage of yours?” “Oh, he is like a dog. So faithful, so de- voted! And he learns French readily, too.” ‘“Humph!” growled Joncaire again. ““And where do you come from, Jean?” Something in his speech warned me—the liquid slurr of the South. “T, monsieur?” I replied innocently. “Oh, Iam of Picardy. But monsieur is of the South—no? of Provence?” “Have you been ALL the suspicion fled from Jon- caire’s face, and in its stead blos- somed a broad smile. ““Peste!” he ejaculated. “ ’Tis a clever lad! And how knew you that, Jean?” I was overjoyed—and in no need to sim- ulate my sentiments. This was good fortune. “Was I not camping beside the Regiment de Provence when we were on the Italian frontier? “Tis a pleasant way those lads have of talking. And such good compan- ions with the bottle!” Adventure “You know, Jean, you know!” Joncaire was delighted with me. “Ah, yes, monsieur,” I asserted modestly. ‘“‘Ah, for some of that warm Southern wine at this moment instead of the accursed rum. Rum is good only for savages.” “You say truth,’ applauded Joncaire. “Come your ways within, Jean, and you shall taste of the blood of La Belle France— although it be not our Provence vintage. By the way, do you know Provence?”’ “T can not say so with honesty, mon- sieur,” I fenced, “‘although I have been in Arles.” ‘In Arles!” He flung his arms around my neck. ‘Jean, I love you, my lad! I was born in St. Remi, which is but a short distance out in the diocese. Does that sacré Henri Ponteuse yet have the tavern at the corner of the Grande Place?” I decided to take a long leap in the dark, and answered: “But no, monsieur; he is dead these ten years. Tis his 2 I was about to say “‘son,” but luckily Jon- caire interrupted in time. “°Twill be that fine lass, Rosette, his niece!”’ he exclaimed. ‘‘Ah, I knew it.” ‘‘And she has taken a husband,” I en couraged him, now so far committed that I might not draw back. | “Not young Voisin, the miller’s son?”’ “No, monsieur; a stranger from a far cor- ner of the diocese. One Michel.” We were now in the entrance of the log house, and Joncaire opened with the door. “Jean, you are a lad in a million!” he pro- nounced. ‘You shall drink deep. I have some wine which Bigon the intendant fetched out for afew of us—you will under- stand you must say naught of it hereafter; it never paid duty. Aye, we shall make a fine night of it, and you shall tell me of all that has passed in Arles these many years. “Mon dieu! I could weep at the thought of the time I have spent in this place of devils; and my children will never know the country that their father came from!”’ Ta-wan-ne-ars would have followed us in- doors, but Joncaire turned and pushed him down on the doorstep. “Sit, sit,’ he said kindly in a tongue which Ta-wan-ne-ars afterward told me was the Messesague dialect. “You shall have your food here.” And to me— CORNICGLO@OOLK (E@