Dollard paused before entering the Château of St. Louis to say to Jacques Goffinet: “Will you not push your business now while I attend to mine, Jacques? Yonder is the building you want to enter. Go and examine the cargo, and I will be there to help you single out your bale.” “M’sieur, unless these are orders, I will wait here for you. I am not in a hurry to trot myself before a hundred and fifty women.” “But hurry you must,” said Dollard, laughing. “I have no time to spare Quebec, and you know the consequences if we give our Indians a chance to get as drunk as they can.” “Dispatch is the word, Sieur des Ormeaux. I’ll attack the first woman in the hall if you but stand by to give the word of command.” “Very well, then. But you will remember, not a breath of my sworn purpose to any of the varlets within here.” Jacques pulled off his cap, and holding it in air stood in the mute attitude of taking an oath. Dollard flung his fingers backward, dismissing the subject. They entered the Château of St. Louis, where Jacques waited in an anteroom among noisy valets and men-at-arms. He was put to question by the governor’s joking, card-playing servants as soon as they understood that he was from Montreal; but he said little, and sat in lowering suspense until Dollard came out of the council-chamber. What Dollard’s brief business was with the governor of Canada has never been set down. That it held importance either for himself or for the enterprise he had in hand is evident from his making a perilous journey in the midst of Indian alarms; but that he made no mention of this enterprise to the governor is also evident, from the fact that it was completed before Quebec had even known of it. His garrison at Montreal and the sub-governor Maisonneuve may have known why he made this voyage, which he accomplished in the astonishing space of ten days, both output and return. This century separates Montreal and Quebec by a single night’s steaming. But voyagers then going up-stream sometimes hovered two weeks on the way. Dollard had for his oarsmen four stout Huron Indians, full of river skill, knowing the St. Lawrence like a brother. He returned through the anteroom, his visionary face unchanged by high company, and with Jacques at his heels walked briskly across Quebec Heights.