“Jacques le Ber is a noble of the colony,” declared Du Lhut, with the derisive freedom this great ranger and leader of coureurs de bois assumed toward any one; “for hath he not purchased his patent of King Louis for six thousand livres? But look you, my cousin Tonty, if the king allowed not us colonial nobles to engage in trade he would lose us all by starvation; for scarce a miserable censitaire on our lands can pay us his capon and pint of wheat at the end of the year.”
“I will answer to you, monsieur,” said Jacques le Ber to the soldier, ”that La Salle is the enemy of the colony, and the betrayer of them that have been his friends.”
Father Hennepin and Du Lhut caught Tonty’s arms. Du Lhut then dragged him with expostulations inside the palisade gate, repeating Frontenac’s strict orders that all quarrels should be suppressed during the beaver fair, and as the young man’s furious looks still sought the merchant, reminding him of the harm he might do La Salle by an open quarrel with Montreal traders.
“I, who am not bound to La Salle as close as thou art,—I tell you it will not do,” declared Du Lhut.
“Let the man keep his distance, then!”
“Why, you hot-blooded fellow! why do you take these Frenchmen so seriously?”
“Sieur de la Salle is my friend. I will strike any man who denounces him.”
“Oh, come out toward the mountain. Let us make a little pilgrimage,” laughed Du Lhut. “We must cool thee, Tonty, we must cool thee; or La Salle’s enemies will lie in one heap the length of Montreal, mowed by this iron hand!”
As Jacques le Ber carried forward his bale, Father Hennepin walked beside him dealing forth good-natured remonstrance with fat hands and out-turned lips.