How well we supped that night, on fresh shad well broiled, and fresh sweet barley bread, and thin brown buckwheat cakes! It was settled at once that Beaudry should put us over to de Ramezay's camp with the first of the morrow's tide. Then, over our pipes, sitting under the apple tree by the porch, we told our late adventures. I say we, but Tamin told them, and gave them a droll colouring which delighted me. It must have tickled Marc's fancy, too, for I took note that he let his pipe out many times during the story. Beaudry kept crying "Hein!" and "Bien!" and "Tiens!" in an ecstasy of admiration. The goodwife, however, was seemingly most touched by the loss of Tamin's knitted cap. With a face of great concern, as who should say "Poor soul!" she jumped up, ran into the house, was gone a few moments, and returned beaming benevolence. "V'la!" she cried; and stuck upon Tamin's wiry black head a bran-new cap of red wool. Chapter VII The Commander is Embarrassed Next day we set out at a good hour, and came without further adventure to Chignecto. Having landed, amid a little swarm of fishing-boats, we then went straight to de Ramezay's headquarters, leaving Beaudry at the wharf among his cronies. We crossed a strip of dyked marsh, whereon were many sleek Acadian cattle cropping the rich aftermath, and ascended the gentle slope of the uplands. Amid a few scattered cabins were ranged the tents of the soldiers. Camp fires and sheaves of stacked muskets gave the bright scene a warlike countenance. Higher up the hill stood a white cottage, larger than the rest, its door painted red, with green panels; and from a staff on its gable, blown out bravely by the wind which ever sweeps those Fundy marshlands, flapped the white banner with the Lilies of France. The sentry who challenged us at the foot of the slope knew me,--had once fought under me in a border skirmish,--and, saluting with great respect, summoned a guard to conduct us to headquarters. As we climbed the last dusty rise and turned in, past the long well-sweep and two gaunt, steeple-like Lombardy poplars, to the yard before the cottage, the door opened and the commander himself stood before us. His face lit up gladly as I stepped forward to greet him, and with great warmth he sprang to embrace me. "My dear Briart!" he cried. "I have long expected you!" "I am but just returned to Acadie, my dear friend," said I, with no less warmth than he had evinced, "or you would surely have seen me here to greet you on your coming. But the King's service kept me on the Richelieu!" "And even your restless activity, my Jean, cannot put you in two places at once," said he, as he turned with an air of courteous inquiry to my companions. Perceiving at once by his dress that Tamin was a habitant, his eyes rested upon Marc. "My son Marc, Monsieur de Ramezay," said I.