How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and QuebecBrereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
History
How Canada Was Won: A Tale of Wolfe and Quebec
Brereton, F. S. (Frederick Sadleir)
United States -- History -- French and Indian War, 1754-1763 -- Juvenile fiction
In a little while the boat came seething alongside, where she lay,
held by an occasional stroke of the oars, while the man in the stern
repeated his questions. Steve did not dare to steal so much as a look
at him, while Jim suddenly ducked his head and turned, so that the
Frenchman could not see his face. For once again Jules Lapon's voice
was heard. Once again had this odious Frenchman come upon the scene
when least desired, and at the most inopportune moment. It was he
without a doubt, more sallow than of yore, his overbearing manners
almost as openly displayed as on the last occasion when Steve had
faced him.
"Where from, and who are you, Indians?" he demanded curtly, in the
Huron tongue. "We have orders to search all who come this way, and to
send them back if they have no good reason for coming."
"The chief can see what our business is," answered Flying Bird
steadily. "Does the Frenchman wish to be assured that these are
fish?"--and he held up one of their catch--"or does he suspect us of
other business? As to who we are, this is a party of Hurons from the
south country. We are awaiting a palaver with your big chief. That is
all."
He baited his hook and tossed it into the river, turning away at once
and ignoring the Frenchman. But Jules was a man of keen perception,
and possessed of a suspicious mind. Unknown to Steve, he had recently
come to Quebec to take up some duty there, and had almost instantly
heard of the escape of the prisoner whom he had cruelly ordered to be
executed down at Ticonderoga. A backwoodsman, such as he was, knew the
difficulties with which a fugitive would have to contend, and he had
at once assured himself that Steve must have friends who were helping
him, and that in place of making away from the neighbourhood of the
city at once, he was probably in hiding close at hand, awaiting a
favourable opportunity to escape.
"And this is just the party to help him," he said to himself as he
stared at the occupants of the canoe. "I will not let him slip through
my fingers if he is here. We will go a little closer, and then have
a look at the far side. It is distinctly suspicious that they should
have their faces turned away."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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