“Not so bad,” he answered finally, the words rumbling in his throat. “Altudah is a good Indian, and has traveled with me before, and the sergeant yonder looks like a fighting man.”
“Ay, but the others?”
“No worse than all the scum. De Baugis had no 97 better with him, and La Salle led a gang of outcasts. With right leadership you can make them do men’s work. ’Tis no kid-gloved job you have, Monsieur Cassion.”
The insulting indifference of the old fur trader’s tone surprised the Commissaire, and he exhibited resentment.
“You are overly free with your comments, Hugo Chevet. When I wish advice I will ask it.”
“And in the woods I do not always wait to be asked,” returned the older man, lighting his pipe, and calmly puffing out the blue smoke. “Though it is likely enough you will be asking for it before you journey many leagues further.”
“You are under my orders.”
“So La Barre said, but the only duty he gave me was to watch over Adele here. He put no shackle on my tongue. You have chosen your course?”
“Yes, up the Ottawa.”
“I supposed so, although that boy yonder could lead you a shorter passage.”