“Adam,” said Mr. Pollock laughing, “I believe you’re really looking for a fight.”

Adam Colfax showed two rows of fine, white teeth, but said nothing.  After a little more hearty talk he went away to look after his fleet, and Mr. Pollock made arrangements for the five to stay at his house until their departure north.  They were to occupy a single big room, and their rifles, other arms, and general equipment were already there waiting for them.

“I’ll miss ‘The Galleon,’” said Paul, “I’d like to be going back in her.  I suppose it’s sentiment, but I became attached to that boat.”

“She wuz shorely comf’table,” said Shif’less Sol.  “I had a good time floatin’ down her on the Missip’.  Now I reckon Jim here will hev to row me or paddle me all the way back to Kaintuck.”

“Ef you wait fur me to row or paddle you, you won’t ever travel more’n six inches,” said Long Jim.

“Jest like you, Jim; you ain’t got no gratitood at all fur me gittin’ you away from New Orlee-yuns.”

Paul, who had been speaking to Henry in a low tone, now turned again to Mr. Pollock.

“There is one more thing that we want you to do for us, if you will, Mr. Pollock,” he said.  “We took the boat from Alvarez because he attacked us first, and we put it to what we think was a good use.  But it really belonged to Spain and Bernardo Galvez.  So if any wages are coming to us we wish that you would take enough in advance and pay the Governor General for the use of the boat and what stores we may have consumed.”

“It shall be done,” said Oliver Pollock, “and I like your spirit in wishing it to be done.”

It was a promise that he kept faithfully.

When they reached their room they found their rifles and other arms in perfect order.  Lieutenant Diego Bernal had taken good care of them.  Long Jim picked up his rifle and handled it lovingly.

“It feels good jest to tech it,” he said.  “I didn’t think I could ever like a Spaniard ez well ez I do that thar little leftenant.  I’ll miss him when we go ploughin’ up the river.”

They were preparing to leave the room and breathe all out of doors, as Sol put it, when they were stopped by the entrance of Father Montigny.  They crowded around him, expressing anew the gratitude that they had shown to him at the house of the Governor General.

“It was really you, Father Montigny, who saved everything,” said Paul.

The priest smiled and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “It was not I, but your courage and tenacity.  I had the rare good fortune to find the letter among the Chickasaws and obtain it.  It was sent by the Shawnees and Miamis as a sort of token, a war belt as it were.  It was only a remote chance that brought it back to New Orleans, and even then Alvarez confidently expected to be Governor General.”

“What will become of Alvarez?” asked Paul.