She could not elude the pardonable glances cast upon her by the strangers--glances which left in their memories the form and face of a dainty brunette with large and very brilliant black eyes. Her waist was slender, her hands and feet were nimble and delicate, and her dress fitted her so neatly that she looked the personation of trimness. "This wine is not original of Ohio. No, no. Ze cask was from Bordeaux, very old, very old--he has fourteen years. Presented to me by my countryman, Comte Malartie. I speak ze truth. From this very cask I have ze honor to drink also ze health of ze General St. Clair, and at one time of Daniel Boone. _Eh bien!_ Long have I suffer in this wilderness; it is fifteen years that Eloy Deville was ze fool to leave France, to leave my native Lyons, and seek ze Terre promise--to find ze tree of natural sugar, ze plants also with wax candles for ze fruit, ze no work, no tax, no war, no king--ze paradise on ze ground! _Oui_, sold I not all my property--take ze ship, take ze wagon, ze flatboat--_en route pour Gallipolis!_ Ah! _mon dieu!_ ze damn fever kill _ma femme_; you see ze old Frenchman in ze poverty; _voila sa richesse! une cabane, un verre de vin--et ma bien aimee--ma pauvre fille--ma Lucrece!_" To justify his grievance, the excited man sprang up and ran to a drawer, from which he took an old French map of the Seven Ranges of the Ohio, representing as cleared and inhabited lands large tracts of unbroken wilderness. This chart had been used by speculators to induce French families to migrate to the Ohio Valley. "See!" continued Deville explosively; "ze scoundrel Barlow cheat my honest poor friends--he print here no veracity--he draw here only to deceive! Look on this place I put my finger"--he tapped the paper angrily--"you see ze Premiereville--ze Premiereville? Eh? I come to Premiereville--no street--no house, only ze forest tree! Messieurs, my little axe make ze first log in ze city, in Premiereville, where we drink now this wine." The doctor's preparations for the trip down the river were quickly made. Half the population of the village, led by Lucrece, flocked to the boat-landing to see him safely off. After the passengers had gone on board, and while the damsel stood waiting their departure, Burke Pierce, leering in her direction, threw her a kiss and as the boat was pushed off began to sing a ribald song. Deville did not witness the insult, but Arlington, with quick anger kindling his chivalrous blood, strode up to Pierce. "You ought to be flogged, you filthy cur." The boatman scowled and clenched his fists, but did not attempt to strike the imperious Southerner. "Cur? I'll remember that!" he muttered, and swaggered away. "I'm a dog, a filthy cur! But I'll have my day!" he growled to Sheldrake.