"Friend, or foe?" asked the Scot, before he would accept my aid.
"Friend, of course," and I braced myself to give the package a hoist.
"Hudson's Bay, or Nor'-Wester?" pursued the settler, determined to take no help from the hated enemy.
"Nor'-Wester, but what does that matter? A friend all the same! Yo heave! Up with it!"
"Neffer!" roared the man in a towering passion, and he gave me a push that sent me knocking into the crowd on the landing. Involuntarily, I threw out my arm to save a fall and caught a woman's outstretched hand. It was Frances Sutherland's and I thrilled with the message she could not speak.
"I beg your pardon, Mistress Sutherland," said I, as soon as I could find speech, and I stepped back tingling with embarrassment and delight.
"A civil-tongued young man, indeed," remarked the father, sarcastically, with a severe scrutiny of my retreating person. "A civil-tongued young man to know your name so readily, Frances! Pray, who is he?"
"Oh! Some Nor'-Wester," answered Frances, the white cheeks blushing red, and she stepped quickly forward to the gang-plank. "Some Nor'-Wester, I suppose!" she repeated unconcernedly, but the flush had suffused her neck and was not unnoticed by the father's keen eyes.
Then they seated themselves at the prow beside the Nor'-Wester appointed to accompany the boat; and I saw that Louis Laplante was sitting directly opposite Frances Sutherland, with his eyes fixed on her face in a bold gaze, that instantly quenched any kindness I may have felt towards him. How I regretted my thoughtlessness in not having forestalled myself in the Sutherlands' barge. The next best thing was to go along with Grant, who was preparing to ride on the river bank and escort the company beyond all danger.
"You coming too?" asked Grant sharply, as I joined him.