Suddenly she remembered that this woman had been her nurse when she was small. For the moment she had failed to realize this fact or to guess what it might mean. Now, that she did so, hope sprang up in her heart. If Fantine kept silence till she could speak to her alone she would throw herself on her mercy, tell her all that she had not already guessed, and beg for silence. Surely her old nurse might grant her that much. She did not know, she could not know, that her wishes would be law to one like Fantine, born on the estates of the great house from which she was descended. Jack’s tale drew to a close. “That’s all, I reckon,” he ended. “Can you suggest anything, madame?” Fantine’s lips twitched. Again she looked at Alagwa and then met Jack’s eyes squarely. “Non, Monsieur! I can suggest nothing, me!” she assented, deliberately. “But, monsieur, I make you very welcome to the house of Bondie. Is this”--she jerked her head toward Alagwa--“is this the boy you have rescue?” Her eyes bored into his. Jack grinned. He was beginning to like the big French woman immensely. “I wouldn’t call it rescue, exactly,” he said. “But this is the boy.” “Ah! la, la,” the French woman burst out. “Le pauvre garcon! But he is tired, yes, one can see that, and I am the big fool that I keep him and you standing. Ah, la, la, but we all are of blindness. Ah! yes but of a blindness. Entrez, entrez, messieurs! Peter will show the black monsieur where to put the horses. Entrez!” Jack turned obediently toward the entrance, but Stickney halted. Plainly he was disappointed at Fantine’s lack of information. “Well! I’m off,” he declared. “I’ll be back later to go over things with you, Mr. Telfair.” He strode away, and Jack and Alagwa followed Madame Fantine beneath the shed. Cato and Peter led the horses away. The smaller of the two buildings evidently served as a store. No white men were visible about its entrance, but through the open door the newcomers could see an Indian woman behind the counter and a dozen blanketed Indians patiently waiting their turn to trade. At the door of the larger building, several white men were sitting, and inside, in the great bar room, Jack could see a dozen more eating at a table made of roughly-hewn planks set on homemade trestles. Close to the door Madame Fantine paused. “You will want to wash, yes?” she questioned, waving her hands toward the basins. Jack nodded. “Glad to!” he declared. “It is all yours, monsieur. It is not what you are accustomed to, but on the frontier--What would you, monsieur? For the table--ah! but, messieurs, there you shall live well. I go to prepare for you the dishes of la belle France.”