As they neared the lower town, the narrow streets became more and more crowded with men in the shantymen's picturesque dress, and they had some difficulty in making their way through the jolly, jostling crowds. As they were nearing the river, they saw coming along the narrow sidewalk a burly French-Canadian, dressed in the gayest holiday garb of the shantymen.--red shirt and sash, corduroys tucked into red top-boots, a little round soft hat set upon the back of his black curls, a gorgeous silk handkerchief around his neck, and a big gold watch-chain with seals at his belt. He had a bold, handsome face, and swaggered along the sidewalk, claiming it all with an assurance fortified by whisky enough to make him utterly regardless of any but his own rights. “Hello!” he shouted, as he swaggered along. “Make way, I'm de boss bully on de reever Hottawa.” It was his day of glory, and it evidently pleased him much that the people stood aside to let him pass. Then he broke into song:-- “En roulant ma boule roulant, En roulant me boule.” “This, I suppose, is one of your beloved shantymen,” said the lieutenant, turning to Kate, who was walking with Harry behind. “Isn't he lovely!” exclaimed Kate. “Oh,” cried Maimie, in terror, “let us get into a shop!” “Quite unnecessary, I assure you,” said the lieutenant, indifferently; “I have not the least idea that he will molest you.” The lumberman by this time had swaggered up to the party, expecting them to make way, but instead, De Lacy stiffened his shoulder, caught the Frenchman in the chest, and rolled him off into the street. Surprised and enraged, the Frenchman turned to demolish the man who had dared to insult the “boss bully on de reever Hottawa.” “Vous n'avez pas remarque la demoiselle,” said the lieutenant, in a tone of politeness. The lumberman, who had swaggered up ready to strike, glanced at Maimie, took off his hat, and made a ceremonious bow. “Eh bien! Non! Pardon, Mams'elle.” “Bon jour,” said Lieutenant De Lacy, with a military salute, and moved on, leaving the lumberman staring after them as if he had seen a vision. “Beauty and the Beast,” murmured the lieutenant. “Thought I was in for it, sure. Really wonderful, don't you know!” “Do you think we had better go on?” said Maimie, turning to Kate and Harry. “Why not? Why, certainly!” they exclaimed. “These horrid men,” replied Maimie. “Dear creatures!” said the lieutenant, glancing at Kate with a mildly pathetic look. “Sweet, but not always fragrant.” “Oh, they won't hurt us. Let us go on.” “Certainly, go on,” echoed Harry, impatiently. “Safe enough, Miss St. Clair, but,” pulling out his perfumed handkerchief, “rather trying.” “Oh, get on, De Lacy,” cried Harry, and so they moved on. The office of Raymond & St. Clair stood near the wharves. Harry paused at the door, not quite sure whether to go in or not. It was easy to discover work in that office.