Probably Dennis had come to the same conclusion, when, waving the tabby-coloured arums he said, “I’ll ask her what these are,” and gaily advanced to carry out his purpose.

“Ye’re daft,” said Alister, getting red.

“It’s a North American Indian!” said I.

“It’s a woman, anyhow!” retorted Dennis over his shoulder, with a twinkle of his eyelashes that drew from Alister in his broadest accent, “The lad’s a pairrfect libberrteen!” an expression which he afterwards retracted and apologized for at considerable length.

Within a few feet of the squaw Dennis lifted the broad-brimmed hat which I had bought for him directly we landed, and then advancing with a winning smile, he asked the name of the flowers in very good Irish.  The squaw smiled too; she touched the flowers, and nodded and said something in a soft, rapid and unknown tongue, which only made Dennis shake his head and smile again, on which she spoke in a language still dark to Alister and me, but not so to Dennis, who, to our amazement, replied in the same, and a dialogue so spirited ensued, that they both seemed to be talking at once.  Alister’s face was a study when Dennis put out his hand towards the squaw’s gold cross, and all but touched it, and then (both chattering faster than ever) unbuttoned his throat and drew out his crucifix to show her.  His last act was to give her half the tabby-striped arums as they parted.  Then he lifted the broad hat once more and stood bareheaded, as the squaw came slowly down the wooden causeway, not without one glance at us as she passed.  But at the bottom of the street she turned round to look at Dennis.  His hat was still in his hand, and he swung it round his head, crying, “A Dieu, Madame!”

“A Dieu!” said the squaw, and she held up the tabby-striped arums.  Very mingled feelings seemed to have been working in Alister’s mind, but his respect for the fruits of education was stronger even than his sense of propriety.  He forgot to scold Dennis for his unseemly familiarity with a stranger, he was so anxious to know in what language he had been speaking.

“French,” said Dennis.  “There seems to be a French mission somewhere near here.  She’s a good Catholic too, but she has a mighty queer accent, and awful feet!”

“It’s a grand thing to speak with other tongues!” said Alister.

“If ye want to learn French, I’ll teach ye all I can,” said Dennis.  “Sh—­sh!  No kindness whatever.  I wish we mayn’t have idle time for any amount of philology!”

At the top of the hill we parted for a time, and went our ways.  Alister to look up his relation, I to buy stationery and stamps for our letters home, and Dennis to convert his gold ring into the currency of the colony.  We would not let him pawn his watch, which he was most anxious to do, though Alister and I pointed out how invaluable it might prove to us (it was a good hunting-watch, and had been little damaged by the sea), because, as he said, “he would feel as if he was doing something, anyhow.”