THE NEW WORLD
Far away on the shores of France, in a little cobbled lane by the water front, Jacques swung into the rhythm of the Sailor's Hornpipe. Raoul stood in the doorway of his low-roofed house, with his violin, directing the tune and swings until he pronounced the dance correctly learned.
Just then three well-dressed gentlemen turned into the narrow way and passed on to the vessel at the wharf below. The raising of sails and shouting of orders suggested an immediate start.
Jacques' father hurried around the corner and motioned to his boy. As Jacques followed, he called back to Raoul, "I'll bring you an Indian scalp when I come home!"
The father and son then crossed the narrow plank to the deck and went below, for their business was to cook for the crew.
The distinguished-looking gentlemen, however, talked earnestly on the shore until the last sail was spread. Then one of them, no other than Monsieur Champlain, stepped aboard, and, as the gang-plank was drawn, called to his friends, "We will also mark the rivers."
And so, long ago in 1605, the French sailed to the Northwest with new hopes. The Spanish and Portuguese had returned with wonderful tales of the mines of South America. Perhaps even greater things might be found on the Northern shores.
It happened one day when the sea was smooth and the well-fed sailors had little to do, that a group of them gathered on deck with tales of the Americas: the shining gold to be found there, the wild beasts, and the wilder Indians. Jacques felt that if he had but a knife, he could conquer the whole country. In the meantime his eye rested on a sharp and ugly-looking one thrust into the belt of a rough old salt who sat astride the deck rail.
Just then there came a lull in the tales and the old fellow, to urge on the flagging spirits, brandished his dirk and pledged it to "The best fellow yet!"
Fierce and impossible yarns followed until Jacques, as if to work off his excitement, jumped into the circle with the swing and the stamp of his newly-learned hornpipe. He danced it well and responded repeatedly to the sailors' applause. It pleased them better than any tale told, and they voted Jacques, "The best fellow yet!" True to his pledge, the old salt presented the knife with a sweeping bow. Jacques, overjoyed, at once cut his mark on the handle, and he dreamed that night of his attack on the New World. He awoke to make plans for the Indian scalps he should take to Raoul, for Indians seemed only as beasts to be slaughtered.