He stood erect in front of his hut, leaning on his cavalry sword, and waited with sublime tranquillity.
After some few words had passed, four strangers, one in the uniform of a major of the American army, came out from the defile, led by Camotte, who walked respectfully in front of them, and made their way in the direction of the captain.
"Good day, Captain Mitchell," said the major.
"You did me the honour to write," observed Mitchell.
"Well, I have some important business to talk about; but first allow me to present to you these two gentlemen. They are French, and consequently I cannot pronounce their names. Oh, I assure you they are worthy gentlemen."
And the fat major laughed heartily.
The captain bowed to the two Frenchmen without speaking. One was a man of about fifty, still young, and with apparently polished manners and rather haughty mien; the other, much younger, was bronzed by the sun, strong, and rather rough.
"This gentleman," continued the major, "is our own countryman, Mr. Stoneweld, of Boston city."
"I think you know me," observed the apoplectic speaker.
"Who does not know Master Stoneweld, of the house of Stoneweld, Errard, and Co., the richest shipowner in all Boston?"