Thus the young men of St. Placide, the relations and friends of Jean Baptiste, kept going away one by one, always promising to return, but never coming back to stay. The home circle grew less and less, and the mother mourned her absent sons. Narcisse, the eldest and the first to go, was a carpenter in Montreal; Toussaint had taken up land in Manitoba; Bazile was working in the copper mines of Lake Superior; François was the owner of a cattle ranch in Alberta; and Hilaire, the last to go, was the farthest away, being employed in the salmon fisheries of British Columbia. It was a roving generation, descended from the old vikings and pirates of northern Europe, and the love of wandering was in the blood. During their early years they would stay at home, contentedly enough, but sooner or later they would hear the call and would go forth, with glowing eyes and courageous heart, to explore new worlds, to conquer other lands. "Jean," said brother Nicholas, one day, "I should like to go to the North-West, to brother François, who has found a place for me. Soon I should have a ranch of my own and a hundred head of cattle--a veritable fortune, such as one could not get in a lifetime here. But I cannot go." "Why not, Nicholas?" said Jean. "Why not? _Mon Dieu_, Jean, you know very well. How could I leave the mother alone, that is to say with you, which is the same thing?" "You can leave her with me, Nicholas." "Leave her with you, Jean Baptiste? You, scholar, hunter, fisherman, good-for-nothing--what could you do? _Mille tonnerres_! You shall go to François and I will stay at home. But it is a pity, yes, a thousand pities. What a chance! _Sacré_! But you shall go, yes, to-morrow. I will not have you here. Do you understand, idler?" "I will not go, Nicholas." "What is that you say? You will not go? Refuse a chance like that? You refuse everything, everything. What obstinacy! The boy is a fool, an utter fool, beyond all hope. _Nom de cauchon_!"