"What do you make of it, Godefroy?" he demanded of the trader.
The trader looked quizzically at Sieur de Radisson.
"The toes of that man's moccasin turn out," says Godefroy significantly.
"Then that man is no Indian," retorted M. Radisson, "and hang me, if the size is not that of a woman or a boy!"
And he led back to the beach.
"Yon ship was a pirate," began Godefroy, "and if buccaneers be about——"
"Hold your clack, fool," interrupted M. Radisson, as if the fellow's prattle had cut into his mental plannings; and he bade us heap such a fire as could be seen by Indians for a hundred miles. "If once I can find the Indians," meditated he moodily, "I'll drive out a whole regiment of scoundrels with one snap o' my thumb!"
Black clouds rolled in from the distant bay, boding a stormy night; and Godefroy began to complain that black deeds were done in the dark, and we were forty leagues away from the protection of our ships.
"A pretty target that fire will make of us in the dark," whined the fellow.
M. Radisson's eyes glistened sparks.