But still the Colonel frowned. He couldn't remember that excellent thing he had been going to say about Romanists. But he sniffed derisively, and flung over his shoulder:
"To hear you goin' on, anybody'd think the Jesuits were the only Christians. As if there weren't others, who—"
"Oh, yes, Christians with gold shovels and Winchester rifles. I know 'em. But if gold hadn't been found, how many of the army that's invaded the North—how many would be here, if it hadn't been for the gold? But all this Holy Cross business would be goin' on just the same, as it has done for years and years."
With a mighty tug the Colonel dragged out the rubber blanket, flung it down on the snow, and squared himself, back to the fire, to make short work of such views.
"I'd no notion you were such a sucker. You can bet," he said darkly, "those fellas aren't making a bad thing out of that 'Holy Cross business,' as you call it."
"I didn't mean business in that sense."
"What else could they do if they didn't do this?"
"Ask the same of any parson."
But the Colonel didn't care to.
"I suppose," he said severely, "you could even make a hero out of that hang-dog Brother Etienne."