However, after struggling for some years to make a stronghold for his
rather erratic chieftain, he at length lost heart and gave up his idea.

Most of his men remained in the district, and intermarried with the
French families already settled there.

Poor Colonel McAllister never got over the blow to his hopes. For the
sake of the bonnie prince, so unworthy of his true devotion, he had been
estranged from his family, and had spent his small fortune in coming to
Canada. Here he was, perforce, obliged to remain.

After a while he settled down as a farmer, and managed to make enough to
keep body and soul together. Perhaps one of the most sensible things he
ever did was to marry Eugenie Laforge, the daughter of the mayor of
Rimouski. She was a pretty girl, and had a nice little fortune, for money
went further in those days than it does now; and thus the McAllisters
were fairly well to do.

Their life for ten years was a happy, uneventful one, most of it spent by
the colonel in writing an account of Prince Charlie's adventures. This
unfortunate young man, I need hardly remind the reader, had long ago, in
the dissipations of various European courts, forgotten that there still
existed such a person as Ivan McAllister.

True, the colonel did give certain spare hours to the education of his
son, but the Prince was ever first in his mind. One morning,--strangely
enough, the anniversary of the battle of Culloden--Ivan McAllister died
quietly after a few hours' illness. Even at the last he was true to his
idol, for his parting words were not addressed to wife or child, but it