"Parbleu!" exclaimed the stranger, then continued instantly in excellent English, staring hard at Norton: "Your coming was most unfortunate, sir! You frightened away the finest specimen of Kentucky cardinal I have seen this year!"
"Accept my apologies, monsieur," smiled Norton, speaking in French. "You are a Frenchman, then?"
"I? Not at all!" cried the other. "I was born in Louisiana, removing later to France, but this is my country. Who are you, sir, who speak French so excellently in this wilderness? Do you come from the French Grant up-river?"
"No, I gained that language in New Orleans," returned Norton, wondering greatly who this eccentric stranger might be. "I regret having frightened away your bird—I trust you did not anticipate dining upon him?"
The other looked bewildered.
"Eh? Dining? Do you eat such birds, sir?"
"Heavens, no!" And Norton laughed despite himself. "But what else could you want of him?"
The stranger broke into a frank laughter; so winning and direct was his whole attitude that the puzzled Norton felt an odd liking for the man.
"It seems we were both mistaken then! I was limning the bird—but come to the higher ground in here. Did you ever see a cardinal's nest?"
"I never looked for one," returned Norton curtly. He followed to a small patch of drier ground in the centre of the cane-brake, and the stranger eagerly pointed to a nest in the branches of a young cottonwood, to one side.