“Ah! you may say so. I fear it will be difficult, indeed,” soliloquised the Colonel, with a thoughtful air. “I very much doubt whether we can get it at all; but it must be had, cost what it may—ay, cost what it may.”
“I will do my best, Colonel.”
“Try at every fur-store in Saint Louis,—inquire among the hunters and trappers—you know where to find them. If these fail you, put an advertisement in the newspapers—advertise both in English and French. Go to Monsieur Choteau—anywhere. Spare no expense, but get me the skin.”
“Restez tranquille, mon Colonel; I shall do all that.”
“Make ready, then, to start. There may be a steamer going up before night. Hush! I hear one this very moment. It may be a Saint Louis boat.”
All stood for a moment silent and listening. The ’scape of another boat coming up the river could be heard plain enough.
“It is a Saint Louis boat,” said Lucien. “It is the ‘Belle of the West.’”
Lucien, who had a quick talent in that way, could tell, by the sound of their steam-pipe, almost every boat that plied upon the Mississippi. In half-an-hour the steamer hove in sight, and it was seen that he had again guessed correctly. It was a Saint Louis boat, and the “Belle of the West,” too!
Hugot had not many preparations to make; and before the boat had arrived opposite to the house, he had arranged everything—received some further instructions, with a purse of money, from his master—and was off to Point Coupée, to meet the steamer at the landing.