Glad as the Cahokians were to see them, the troops were no longer needed, for the Puants had gone.  They were frightened out of the country.  Oh, yes, all those Indians wanted was a good whipping, and they got it.  Alexis Barbeau had come along with the soldiers from Prairie du Pont, and he was not the only man who had made use of military escort.  Basil Le Page had come up from New Orleans in the last fleet of pirogues to Kaskaskia.  There he heard so much about the Puants that he bought a swift horse and armed himself for the ride northward, and was glad when he reached Fort Chartres to ride into Cahokia with Captain Saucier.

You might say Basil Le Page came in at one end of Cahokia and Claudis Beauvois went out at the other.  For they knew one another directly, and it was noised in a minute that Basil said to his cousins Paul and Jacques:—­

“What is that notorious swindler and gambler doing here?  He left New Orleans suddenly, or he would be in prison now, and you will see if he stops here long after recognizing me.”

Claudis Beauvois did not turn around in the street to look at any woman, rich or poor, when he left Cahokia, though how he left was not certainly known.  Alexis Barbeau and his other associates knew better how their pockets were left.

Oh, yes, Alexis Barbeau was very willing for Celeste to marry Gabriel after that.  He provided for them handsomely, and gave presents to each of the young men who had helped to take his daughter from the Puants; and he was so ashamed of the son-in-law he had wanted, that he never could endure to hear the man’s name mentioned afterward.  Alexis and the tavern-keeper used—­when they were taking a social cup together—­to hug each other without a word.  The fine guest who had lived so long at the auberge and drank so much good wine, which was as fine as any in New Orleans, without expense, was as sore a memory to the poor landlord as to the rich landowner.  But Celeste and Gabriel—­my mother said when they were married the dancing and fiddling and feasting were kept up an entire week in Caho’.

[Footnote 1:  To Cahokia.]

[Footnote 2:  To Peoria.]

[Footnote 3:  To Kaskaskia.]

[Footnote 4:  Cahokian softening of cursed.]

PONTIAC’S LOOKOUT.

Jenieve Lalotte came out of the back door of her little house on Mackinac beach.  The front door did not open upon either street of the village; and other domiciles were scattered with it along the strand, each little homestead having a front inclosure palisaded with oaken posts.  Wooded heights sent a growth of bushes and young trees down to the pebble rim of the lake.