“I must thank Your Excellency for the welcome sent down by your cadets,” says M. de Radisson, meeting the governor half-way across the gang-plank.

M. de la Barre, an iron-gray man past the prime of life, gave spare smile in answer to that.

“I bade my cadets request you to report at the castle,” says he, with a hard wrinkling of the lines round his lips.

“I bade your fellows report that I was indisposed!”

“Did the north not agree with Sieur Radisson?” asks the governor dryly.

“Pardieu!—­yes—­better than the air of Quebec,” retorts M. Radisson.

By this the eyes of the listeners were agape, M. Radisson not budging a pace to go ashore, the governor scarce courting rebuff in sight of his soldiers.

“Radisson,” says M. de la Barre, motioning his soldiers back and following to our captain’s cabin, “a fellow was haltered and whipped for disrespect to the bishop yesterday!”

“Fortunately,” says M. Radisson, touching the hilt of his rapier, “gentlemen settle differences in a simpler way!”

They had entered the cabin, where Radisson bade me stand guard at the door, and at our leader’s bravado M. de la Barre saw fit to throw off all disguise.

“Radisson,” he said, “those who trade without license are sent to the galleys——­”

“And those who go to the galleys get no more furs to divide with the Governor of New France, and the governor who gets no furs goes home a poor man.”

M. de la Barre’s sallow face wrinkled again in a dry laugh.

“La Chesnaye has told you?”

“La Chesnaye’s son——­”

“Have the ships a good cargo?  They must remain here till our officer examines them.”

Which meant till the governor’s minions looted both vessels for His Excellency’s profit.  M. Radisson, who knew that the better part of the furs were already crossing the ocean, nodded his assent.

“But about these English prisoners, of whom La Chesnaye sent word from Isle Percee?” continued the governor.

“The prisoners matter nothing—­’tis their ship has value——­”

“She must go back,” interjects M. de la Barre.

“Back?” exclaims M. Radisson.

“Why didn’t you sell her to some Spanish adventurer before you came here?”

“Spanish adventurer—­Your Excellency?  I am no butcher!”

“Eh—­man!” says the governor, tapping the table with a document he pulled from his greatcoat pocket and shrugging his shoulders with a deprecating gesture of the hands, “if her crew feared sharks, they should have defended her against capture.  Now—­your prize must go back to New England and we lose the profit!  Here,” says he, “are orders from the king and M. Colbert that nothing be done to offend the subjects of King Charles of England——­”

“Which means that Barillon, the French ambassador——?”

M. de la Barre laid his finger on his lips.  “Walls have ears!  If one king be willing to buy and another to sell himself and his country, loyal subjects have no comment, Radisson.” [1]