Now he was in the lightest of spirits. He had some choice furs that were eagerly snapped up. The Indian women had been shrewd enough to arrange tempting booths, where frying fish and roasted birds gave forth an appetizing fragrance. There were cakes of ground maize baked on hot stones, and though Champlain had used his best efforts to keep some restraint on spirituous liquors, there were many ways of evading.
Lalotte was fairly stupefied with amazement at her husband's prosperity.
"Why, you are rich with that bag of money," she cried. "I never saw so much."
He laughed jovially. "Better than standing up to be shot—he! he! Jacques Lallemont had the idea, and they wanted emigrants for New France bad enough. Why don't they send more? The English understand better. Sacré! But it is a great country. Only Quebec stays little, when it should be a great place. Why can they not see?"
Lalotte could venture no explanation of that. She seemed to be in a maze herself.
Vessels were taking on cargoes of furs as soon as they were inspected. The river as far as Tadoussac looked thriving enough. Antoine met old friends, but he was more level-headed than some, and did not get tipsy. Lalotte held her head higher than ever.
When it was getting rather too rough they made their way out.
"Oh, the child!" she exclaimed, with a sudden twinge of conscience. "And those wretched slave boys. If your back is turned they are in league with the evil one himself. Baptism does not seem to drive it out. Whether the poor thing had her breakfast."
"Let that alone. It was mighty cool in Jean Arlac to foist her on thee. And now that we have left the crowd behind and are comfortable in the stomach."
"But the cost, Antoine. I could have gotten it for half!"