"There," concluded Balfour, "I have said too much. On the whole, I am contented, and the Province offers more than many corners of the world to an ambitious young man, so enough said. Now, just see, I was so absorbed in harrowing your feelings over the Loyalists that I have taken a wrong turn, and we are now so far from the battleground that we'll have to give it up this afternoon." "'All roads are alike to me,'" hummed Amy, while Martine added, "But the scenery here is lovely. Just see how the North Mountain stands out, with that little fringe of mist hanging about the top, and I've never seen so many fine orchards. Oh, I wouldn't have missed this particular drive for anything;" and her flushed cheeks and beaming eyes showed that she had meant what she said. "The drive has been full of pictures, too," added Martine. "I've seen a great many things even that you have not spoken of, and whenever I look over there toward the woods I fancy I see an Indian creeping along; not an unfriendly savage, but one with a smile on his face, hoping perhaps to be asked by Lescarbot to stay to dinner at the Fort." "Yes," rejoined Balfour, "one of those jolly fellows who objected to the wording of the Lord's Prayer in asking for bread, saying that bread alone wouldn't do for him, as he needed moose, and fish besides." "Yes, and some of the French dishes that they favored him with occasionally." "Well, I have heard many things that make me believe that the Indians of Acadia were jokers. Some of the stories would shock you, I am afraid;" and Balfour hesitated. "Oh, we are not so easily shocked. Tell us, do." "Very likely you've heard this particular thing. But it is said that one of the men in that first expedition of the French undertook to make a dictionary, and when he tried to get some of the natives to give him the Micmac for various sacred names, the Indian gave him words that were just the contrary,--almost profane, in fact,--so that the Frenchman made himself very ridiculous when he tried to make use of his new vocabulary." "Which shows," said Martine, "that the Micmac Indian was not such a serious and solemn creature as those that used to appear in our school histories bewailing the advance of the white man. I always thought I'd like to meet one of them." "Why, Martine?" "Yes, just for the pleasure of sticking a pin in him. He would never have had spirit enough to turn his tomahawk against me. But these Micmacs knew how to enjoy life. The dictionary maker was probably a prim, conceited fellow, who deserved to be laughed at. Of course, in a general way," she concluded hastily, "I am always on the side of the French, and I love to remember that the old Fort once belonged to them." "'When from Port Royal's rude-built walls Gleamed o'er the hills afar, The golden lilies on the shield Of Henry of Navarre.