He was a Récollet friar with sandalled feet, wearing a gray capote of coarse texture which was girt with the cord of Saint Francis. His peaked hood hung behind his shoulders leaving his shaven crown to glisten with rosy enjoyment of the sunlight. A crucifix hung at his side; but no man ever devoted his life to prayer who was so manifestly created to enjoy the world. He had a nose of Flemish amplitude depressed in the centre, fat lips, a terraced chin, and twinkling good-humored eyes. The gray capote could not conceal a pompous swell of the stomach and the strut of his sandalled feet.
“My cousin Tonty,” said Du Lhut, “this is Father Louis Hennepin from Fort Frontenac. He hath come down to Montreal[3] to meet Monsieur de la Salle and engage himself in the new western venture.”
“Venture!” exclaimed a keen-visaged man in the garb of a merchant-colonist who was carrying a bale of goods to one of the booths,—for no man in Montreal was ashamed to get profit out of the beaver fair. “Where your Monsieur de la Salle is concerned there will be venture enough, but no results for any man but La Salle.”
He set his bale down as if it were a challenge.
Points of light sprung into Tonty’s eyes and the blood in his face showed its quickening.
“Monsieur,” he spoke, “if you are a gentleman you shall answer to me for slandering Monsieur de la Salle.”
“Monsieur,” spoke Tonty, “if you are a gentleman you shall answer to me for slandering Monsieur de la Salle.”—Page 32.