"You may return to the city," said she, addressing them sharply; "I
pray to the bon Dieu to strike you white;--it is vain to look for
manners from an Indian! I shall remain in St. Valier, and not
return with you."
"Marry me, be my squaw, Ania?" replied one of the boatmen, with a
grim smile; "the bon Dieu will strike out papooses white, and teach
them manners like palefaces."
"Ugh! not for all the King's money. What! marry a red Indian, and
carry his pack like Fifine Perotte? I would die first! You are
bold indeed, Paul La Crosse, to mention such a thing to me. Go back
to the city! I would not trust myself again in your canoe. It
required courage to do so at all, but Mademoiselle selected you for
my boatmen, not I. I wonder she did so, when the brothers Ballou,
and the prettiest fellows in town, were idle on the Batture."
"Ania is niece to the old medicine-woman in the stone wigwam at St.
Valier; going to see her, eh?" asked the other boatman, with a
slight display of curiosity.
"Yes, I am going to visit my aunt Dodier; why should I not? She has
crocks of gold buried in the house, I can tell you that, Pierre
Ceinture!"
"Going to get some from La Corriveau, eh? crocks of gold, eh?" said
Paul La Crosse.
Pages:
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681