While I was still staring at him, Carette's voice came from its hiding-place—
"It is Phil Carré come to look for me, father. He is my good friend. You will give him welcome."
"Ah-ha! Mademoiselle commands," and the keen face softened somewhat and broke into a smile, which was still somewhat grim. "Monsieur Phil Carré, I greet you! I can hardly say you are welcome, as I do not care for visitors. But since you came to get news of the little one, I promise not to kill and eat you, as you seem to expect."
"Merci, monsieur!" I faltered. For, from all accounts, he was quite capable of the first, though the second had not actually suggested itself to me.
"How did you come? I did not see any boat."
"By the Galé de Jacob. I swam across."
"Ma foi! Swam across! You have courage, mon gars;" and I saw that I had risen in his estimation.
"He swims like a fish and he has no fear," chirped Carette from her hiding-place.
"All the same, bon Dieu, the Gouliot is no pond," and he looked through me again. "How old are you, mon gars?"
"Thirteen next year."