“Ah!” the word of surprise exploded from the lips. “Sacre! ’tis true! My faith, what difference clothes make. I mistook you for a courier du bois.”
“I am the Sieur Rene de Artigny.”
“Lieutenant of La Salle’s?”
“Scarcely that, Monsieur, but a comrade; for three years I have been with his party, and was chosen by him for this mission.”
Cassion laughed, chucking the gloomy-faced Chevet in the side, as though he would give point to a good joke.
“And little the trip hither has profited either master or man, I warrant. La Barre does not sell New France to every adventurer. Monsieur de la Salle found different reception in Quebec than when Frontenac ruled this colony. Where went the fur-stealer?”
“To whom do you refer?”
“To whom? Heaven help us, Chevet, the man would play nice with words. Well, let it go, my young cock, and answer me.”
“You mean the Sieur de la Salle?”