"Yes, and the train is late. If I was an engine, I'd get here on time, and not keep folks waiting for their mail."
Antoine LeBrinn made a remarkably bad grimace, looked at Billy for several seconds, and then replied: "Little boy ain't got no patience these day. Now, when I'm a little boy and live on Cadotte's Point, we only got our mail two time in one week."
"But that was before the railroads came," said Betty, "and I don't see how you got any mail at all. Did it come in canoes?"
Antoine shrugged his shoulders. "No, Betty, the dog she bring our mail in those day."
"Dogs!" exclaimed Billy. He was sure there was a story coming.
"What do you mean?" inquired Gerald, seating himself in Billy's rocker, while Betty drew her footstool close beside him. "Antoine, what do you mean?"
"Just what I'm say. Dog, she bring our mail in the old day. Did you never hear of a traineau?"
"Yes," admitted Betty. "I have read of traineaus, but I never expected to see any one who ever saw one. Do tell me all about them."
"Well," began the Frenchman, making all sorts of motions with his head and his hands as he went on, "well, when I'm little boy and this was call Old Mackinaw Point, there was no train and no steamboat, and in the winter-time all our mail was brought by these dog I am tell you about. These dog she was train with the harness and haul a long sleigh call a traineau. I know a little chap," and Billy had to give a hard kick at somebody who pinched his toes, "I know one little chap that hitch up one dog to her sled and take a ride on all kinds of weather. Well, well, what's the matter with Beely? She jump around like something bite him."