Antoine, however, was not to be urged on so easily. He had been meditating deeply all morning on what he should purchase. Moreover, he had a sweetheart, and of course he had to buy something for her before setting out on his travels. Besides, Antoine was six feet high, and broad shouldered, and well made, with a dark face and glossy black hair; and he entertained a notion that there were one or two points in his costume which required to be carefully rectified, ere he could consider that he had attained to perfection: so he brushed the long hair off his forehead, crossed his arms, and gazed around him.
“Come now, Antoine,” said Peter, throwing a green blanket at him, “I know you want that to begin with. What’s the use of thinking so long about it, eh? And that, too,” he added, throwing him a blue cloth capote. “Anything else?”
“Oui, oui, monsieur,” cried Antoine, as he disengaged himself from the folds of the coat which Peter had thrown over his head. “Tabac, monsieur, tabac!”
“Oh, to be sure,” cried Peter. “I might have guessed that that was uppermost in your mind. Well, how much will you have?” Peter began to unwind the fragrant weed off a coil of most appalling size and thickness which looked like a snake of endless length. “Will that do?” and he flourished about four feet of the snake before the eyes of the voyageur.
Antoine accepted the quantity, and young Harry Somerville entered the articles against him in a book.
“Anything more, Antoine?” said the trader. “Ah, some beads and silks, eh? Oho, Antoine!—By the way, Louis, have you seen Annette lately?”
Peter turned to another voyageur when he put this question, and the voyageur gave a broad grin as he replied in the affirmative, while Antoine looked a little confused. He did not care much, however, for jesting. So, after getting one or two more articles—not forgetting half a dozen clay pipes, and a few yards of gaudy calico, which called forth from Peter a second reference to Annette—he bundled up his goods, and made way for another comrade.
Louis Peltier, one of the principal guides, and a man of importance therefore, now stood forward. He was probably about forty-five years of age; had a plain, olive-coloured countenance, surrounded by a mass of long jet-black hair, which he inherited, along with a pair of dark, piercing eyes, from his Indian mother; and a robust, heavy, yet active frame, which bore a strong resemblance to what his Canadian father’s had been many years before. His arms, in particular, were of herculean mould, with large, swelling veins and strongly-marked muscles. They seemed, in fact, just formed for the purpose of pulling the heavy sweep of an inland boat among strong rapids. His face combined an expression of stern resolution with great good-humour; and truly his countenance did not belie him, for he was known among his comrades as the most courageous and at the same time the most peaceable man in the settlement. Louis Peltier was singular in possessing the latter quality, for assuredly the half-breeds, whatever other good points they boast, cannot lay claim to very gentle or dove-like dispositions. His grey capote and blue leggings were decorated with no unusual ornaments, and the scarlet belt which encircled his massive figure was the only bit of colour he displayed.
The younger men fell respectfully into the rear as Louis stepped forward and begged pardon for coming so early in the day. “Mais, monsieur,” he said, “I have to look after the boats to-day, and get them ready for a start to-morrow.”
Peter Mactavish gave Louis a hearty shake of the hand before proceeding to supply his wants, which were simple and moderate, excepting in the article of tabac, in the use of which he was immoderate, being an inveterate smoker; so that a considerable portion of the snake had to be uncoiled for his benefit.