I heard the first fellow
swearing roundly to the others that he would "send yon courier to
fires of hell, if he played with him again so."
The gates closed behind me, and I was in the town which had seen
the worst days and best moments of my life. I rode along at a trot,
and once again beyond the citadel was summoned by a sentinel.
Safely passed on, I came down towards the Chateau St. Louis. I rode
boldly up to the great entrance door, and handed the packet to the
sentinel.
"From whom?" he asked.
"Look in the corner," said I. "And what business is't of yours?"
"There is no word in the corner," answered he doggedly. "Is't
from Monsieur le General at Cap Rouge?"
"Bah! Did you think it was from an English wolf?" I asked.
His dull face broke a little. "Is Jean Labrouk with Bougainville
yet?"
"He's done with Bougainville; he's dead," I answered.
"Dead! dead!" said he, a sort of grin playing on his face.
I made a shot at a venture. "But you're to pay his wife Babette
the ten francs and the leg of mutton in twenty-four hours, or his
ghost will follow you. Swallow that, pudding-head! And see you pay
it, or every man in our company swears to break a score of shingles
on your bare back.
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