“Almost five years of losing and winning! Well, they are plucky not to be discouraged. But what troubles me a little are the English over there!” nodding to the eastward. “If some fine day they descend upon us—well, we shall be wiped out, that is all about it! The government at New Orleans does not seem to care, and sends us this drunken, insolent fellow for commandant, who is as set in his own ways as a mule.” “The English will be kept busy enough on the eastern coast defending their ports and trying to capture the cities. Faith! it is a great and glorious country, and I hardly know which has the best, the east or the west. If some day the way is cleared to the Pacific coast, and then, presto! India!” India was still a dream of the advancement of commerce. The western empire was to turn more than one brain. Denys studied the young face in the glow of youthful enthusiasm. “Marchand, you should have been a soldier,” he said. “Well, which side shall I take?” mockingly. “I am French. Those cursed English have driven us out of Canada. Thank Heaven we have left some graves of heroes there. But I wonder what Louis le Grand could have been thinking of to allow himself to be despoiled of such a magnificent estate! And here we were all turned over to Spain without even a chance to fight for our homes in the New World,” and Marchand gave a strong, scornful laugh. “There are still the Indians left.” “We have kept good friends with them so far.” “But the British can stir them up easily. Rum and firearms may do the mischief. Still, it is true that some day I may have to fight for my life, or something I hold dearer than life.” “Are you going back north?” Marchand shook his head. He was sitting on a pile of skins leaning against the wall, picturesque in his _voyageur’s_ attire, which was highly ornamented with Indian work. Now and then in the intervals of talk he blew out a volume of smoke from his pipe, or made rings in the air when he took it from his mouth. There was something jaunty and light-hearted about him in spite of the resolute eyes. “Nay,” with a shake of the head, “I have cut myself out of that. I like the life, too. Denys, were you ever very much in love? But no, that is a foolish question, for you are the sort of man to fight for the one who roused your soul. And so many pretty girls are here in St. Louis!” “Yes, I heard you had married,” evading the half inquiry.