"The French never lie when they speak of the Great Spirit," said the Canadian; and, opening his knapsack, he took a small sip of brandy.
"Give me, my brother, give me one little drink," said Talamousse, stretching out his hand.
"If Talamousse will sell me his share of the prisoner," said Dumais, "he shall have another drink."
"Give me all the fire-water," said Talamousse, "and take my share of the English dog."
"No," said Dumais, "one more drink and that will be all;" and he made a movement to put away the bottle.
"Give it to me, then, and take my share of him."
He seized the bottle in both hands, took a long pull at the precious fluid, and then fell asleep on the grass.
"There's one of them fixed," thought Dumais.
Grand-Loutre had been watching all this with an air of defiance, but had kept on smoking indifferently.
"Now will my brother sell me his share of the prisoner?" asked Dumais.