“Hein, no!” Nanon reduced her forehead to an inch of tight cords, crossed her arms, and shook herself from side to side in the most approved style of obstinacy. “I have morals, me, even in the wilderness. It is necessary to remember _les convenances_. In our country ladies are guarded under the care of their mothers, as the hen gathers her chickens under her wings. My demoiselle has been confided to my care by Madame la Marquise; not a step, not a shadow of a step, moves my young lady without my attendance. Madame counts upon my faith.” “It is I who am responsible to Madame la Marquise for Mademoiselle de Monesthrol; nor is it likely that surrounded by friends any harm will befall her. Your faithful attachment to your mistress, my girl, alone excuses the presumption of your interference. Du Chesne, you will take charge of Diane; Jean and Nanon will follow closely in the larger canoe; we shall all remain in sight of one another.” Thus Le Ber decisively settled the question; then, holding his hat under his arm, with a profound bow he offered his hand to conduct Madame de St. Helène to the boat. “Now, are you satisfied?” the young man laughed gaily. “Diane, is it not a joke? You and I surely might be allowed to take care of ourselves.” Nanon was still disposed to be nettled; she resented Le Ber’s rebuke, but no one could ever resist the gay confidence of the trader’s youngest son. Jean Le Ber du Chesne might fitly serve as an example of the best type of the colonial youth of the period. Born and nurtured in Canada, thoroughly versed in woodcraft, seasoned to toil, fatigue and trying extremes of climate, trained amidst dangers and alarms, while yet in his teens he had acquired a reputation for tact and courage. As the sea is the sailor’s native element, his cherished career, his passion, so was the forest that of Le Ber du Chesne. From childhood he had accompanied his cousins, the Le Moynes, a family of heroes, upon the most difficult and arduous expeditions. In the elastic buoyancy of early youth, hardship and perils had but developed an uncommon vitality and afforded opportunities for the display of resource and valor. The austerity of the most sombre acetic relaxed at the sight of his debonair face; the craftiest of Indian diplomats, the most lawless of coureurs de bois were alike moulded to the purposes of the young Canadian. “We shall keep Bibelot with us. Diane and I have no desire to furnish _bouillon à l’Iroquois_; we should neither of us relish being thrown into the kettle.” Du Chesne’s gay inadvertent laugh rang out as he jested with one of the grimmest terrors of colonial life. Three soldiers rowed the larger craft, occupied by Le Ber and St. Helène with the wife and children of the latter. Several other boats followed, carrying servants, soldiers, workpeople and baggage.