There was no talk at breakfast; the family copied the manner of the governor, who had greeted Lida with a single word, gestured her to her chair, and now ate in silence. All his festal trappings had been laid aside; he was a grave, wrinkled man in the ordinary attire of a woodsman. In her new humility Lida wondered how she would summon courage to ask for canoemen to take her north. The impulse to keep on toward the drive was no longer so keen and courageous and absorbing, she realized. She had dreamed vividly when she stood in the presence of Echford Flagg; but she had begun to face practicality, and the difficulties frightened her. Before the breakfast was finished, Father Leroque came in; he had lodged in the quarters provided for his visits, a small room in the vestry. The sisters who taught the boys and girls of the community had brought his food. But he sat at the elbow of the governor's wife and drank the coffee that she poured for him. He was cheery, vivacious, and he smiled consolingly on Lida, who was not able to return his morning optimism. His arrival broke the fetters of silence, and even Susep Nicola joined in the chatter which the priest kept stirring. Lida kept her gaze on the floor and saw the broad shaft of sunlight shift slowly and relentlessly, marking the passage of precious time. "I must go," she said, suddenly, looking into the countenance of Nicola. "Yes." "I'm afraid I ought to have been on my way before." "It's for you to say when you go; you are welcome here," he returned. "I have waited for you to say." It was according to his code of hospitality--the guest must indicate desire. He rose. His wife brought to Lida the jacket and the cap. But the chief picked up the Flagg cant dog and carried it when he led the way to the door. Father Leroque seemed to understand what was in Lida's mind just then. "You are worried about how you are to travel, is it not so? You do not need to ask, mam'selle!" He bowed her to the door. In front of the sachem's house hung a broad disk of tanned moosehide in a frame. Nicola pounded on the makeshift gong with a mallet. Men assembled quickly in front of him, coming as if they had expected the summons. "You know. I have told you," said the chief. He stroked his hand over the totem mark on the cant dog handle. "You know how our brother has been the good friend of the Tarratines on this river." One step in advance of the others of the throng stood Felix Lapierre, the bridegroom. "How many?" asked the chief. "Twenty," said Felix. "And all very much happy to do the good service." The priest smiled into the amazed eyes of the girl. "For your conveyance? Ah no, mam'selle. For your good help on the drive. They are rivermen--the best. Felix Lapierre leads them and you shall see for yourself what a king of the white water he is. He will be your right-hand man on the drive. It is all very fine, eh, mam'selle?" She was staring from face to face, overwhelmed. She could not reply.