A moment more and the man had come up. “Ah! Is it my good friend, Major Stickney?” he burst out. “He brings me the guests, yes!” Stickney nodded, smilingly. “Four of them, Peter,” he said; “and one more to come--a very special one. I commend him especially to your sister. A man named--er--Rogers, I believe.” He grinned at the woman, who was hurrying up. She grinned back at him. “Oh! La! La!” she cried. “That silent Mr. Rogers. He will not talk. He will do nothing but eat. Mon Dieu! What is one to do with such a man? But les autres! These other messieurs here. They are most welcome.” Stickney nodded. “They start for Detroit tomorrow,” he explained, “but before they go they want to eat some of your so-wonderful meals. They’ve heard about them from Rogers. Ah! But that man adores you, Madame Fantine. Besides, they’ve got a lot to ask you.” “To ask me, monsieur?” The French woman’s beady eyes darted inquiringly from Stickney to Jack and back again. “Yes! You and our good friend Pierre.” “Bon! I shall answer with a gladness, but, yes, with a gladness. It is of the most welcome that they are. They are of the nobility. With half an eye one can see that. It will be a pleasure the most great to entertain them.” As she spoke the French woman’s roving eyes rested on Alagwa’s face. Instantly they widened with an amazement that sent the blood flooding to the tips of the girl’s shell-like ears. Then they jumped to Jack’s face and she gasped. “Of a truth, monsieur,” she went on, after an almost imperceptible break. “It is not worth the while to prepare the dishes of la belle France for the cochons who live hereabouts. They care for naught but enough to fill their bellies! But you, monsieur, ah! it will be the great pleasure to cook for you. Entrez! Entrez! Messieurs.” She stood aside and waved her guests toward the house. CHAPTER XII THE “Maison Bondie” consisted of two square buildings of the blockhouse type, set thirty or forty feet apart and connected by a single roof that turned the intervening space into a commodious shed, beneath which was a well and a rack with half a dozen basins that plainly comprised the toilet arrangements of the hotel. Both buildings were built of logs, roughly squared and strongly notched together at the corners. The doorways, which opened on the covered space, were small, and the doors themselves were massive. The windows were few and were provided with stout inside shutters that could be swung into place and fastened at a moment’s notice. Loopholes were so placed as to command all sides of the building. The place looked as if built to withstand an attack, and, in fact, had withstood more than one in its ten-years’ history. Back of the buildings were half a dozen wagons, each fronted by a pair of horses or mules, which were contentedly munching corn from the heavy troughs that had been removed from the rear and placed athwart the tongue of the wagon.