“This life will never do, Gode,” said I, addressing my compagnon.
“Ah! monsieur, nevare! nevare it vill do. Ah! ver doll. It is like von assemblee of le Quaker.”
“I am determined to endure it no longer.”
“But what can monsieur do? How, capitaine?”
“By leaving this accursed place, and that to-morrow.”
“But is monsieur fort? strongs beau-coup? strongs to ride?”
“I will risk it, Gode. If I break down, there are other towns on the river where we can halt. Anywhere better than here.”
“C’est vrai, capitaine. Beautiful village down the river. Albuquerque; Tome: ver many village. Mon Dieu! all better, Santa Fé is one camp of tief. Ver good for us go, monsieur; ver good.”
“Good or not, Gode, I am going. So make your preparations to-night, for I will leave in the morning before sunrise.”
“It will be von grand plaisir to makes ready.” And the Canadian ran from the room, snapping his fingers with delight.