Then we launched out, and I heard Ben muttering under his breath that he was cursed if he had ever known such impudence.  In mid-current our leader laid his pole crosswise and laughed long.

“’Tis a pretty prize.  ’Twill fetch the price of a thousand beaver-skins!  Captain Gillam reckoned short when he furnished young Ben to defraud the Company.  He would give a thousand pounds for my head—­would he?  Pardieu!  He shall give five thousand pounds and leave my head where it is!  And egad, if he behaves too badly, he shall pay hush-money, or the governor shall know!  When we’ve taken him, lads, who—­think you—­dare complain?” And he laughed again; but at a bend in the river he turned suddenly with his eyes snapping—­“Who a’ deuce could that have been playing pranks in the woods the other night?  Mark my words, Stanhope, whoever ’twas will prove the brains and the mainspring and the driving-wheel and the rudder of this cub’s venture!”

And he began to dip in quick vigorous strokes like the thoughts ferreting through his brain.  We had made bare a dozen miles when paddles clapped athwart as if petrified.

Up the wide river, like a great white bird, came a stately ship.  It was the Prince Rupert of the Hudson’s Bay Company, which claimed sole right to trade in all that north land.

Young Gillam, with guns mounted, to the rear!  A hostile ship, with fighting men and ordnance, to the fore!  An unknown enemy inland!  And for our leader a man on whose head England and New England set a price!

Do you wonder that our hearts stopped almost as suddenly as the paddles?  But it was not fear that gave pause to M. Radisson.

“If those ships get together, the game is lost,” says he hurriedly.  “May the devil fly away with us, if we haven’t wit to stop that ship!”

Act jumping with thought, he shot the canoe under cover of the wooded shore.  In a twinkling we had such a fire roaring as the natives use for signals.  Between the fire and the river he stationed our Indian, as hunters place a decoy.

The ruse succeeded.

Lowering sail, the Prince Rupert cast anchor opposite our fire; but darkness had gathered, and the English sent no boat ashore till morning.

Posting us against the woods, M. Radisson went forward alone to meet the company of soldiers rowing ashore.  The man standing amidships, Godefroy said, was Captain Gillam, Ben’s father; but the gentleman with gold-laced doublet and ruffled sleeves sitting back in the sheets was Governor Brigdar, of the Hudson’s Bay Fur Company, a courtier of Prince Rupert’s choice.

The clumsy boat grounded in the shallows, and a soldier got both feet in the water to wade.  Instantly M. Radisson roared out such a stentorian “Halt!” you would have thought that he had an army at his back.  Indeed, that is what the party thought, for the fellow got his feet back in the boat monstrous quick.  And there was a vast bandying of words, each asking other who they were, and bidding each other in no very polite terms to mind their own affairs.