"It is a long voyage from Gravois with a load of wood, Capitaine—I am very grateful."
"Business is business, Mr. Renault," was the self-contained reply.
"Alphonse!" cried Mr. Renault, "Alphonse!" A door opened in the back wall. "Du vin pour Monsieur le Capitaine."
"Oui, M'sieu."
Eliphalet was too frightened to wonder why this taciturn handler of wood was called Captain, and treated with such respect.
"Guess I won't take any wine to-night, Mr. Renault," said he. "You go inside, or you'll take cold."
Mr. Renault protested, asked about all the residents of Gravois way, and finally obeyed. Eliphalet's heart was in his mouth. A bolder spirit would have dashed for liberty. Eliphalet did not possess that kind of bravery. He was waiting for the Captain to turn toward his wagon.
He looked down the area instead, with the light from the street lamp on his face. Fear etched an ineffaceable portrait of him on Mr. Hopper's mind, so that he knew him instantly when he saw him years afterward. Little did he reckon that the fourth time he was to see him this man was to be President of the United States. He wore a close-cropped beard, an old blue army overcoat, and his trousers were tucked into a pair of muddy cowhide boots.
Swiftly but silently the man reached down and hauled Eliphalet to the sidewalk by the nape of the neck.
"What were you doing there?" demanded he of the blue overcoat, sternly.