Mr. Coburn was very polite, suave and polished as an accomplished
man of the world. But his manner was not really friendly; in fact,
Hilliard seemed to sense a veiled hostility. A few deft questions
put him in possession of the travelers ostensible plans, which he
discussed with some interest.

"But," he said to Hilliard, "I am afraid you are in error in coming
up this River Lesque. The canal you want to get from here is the
Midi, it enters the Mediterranean not far from Narbonne. But the
connection from this side is from the Garonne. You should have gone
up-stream to Langon, nearly forty miles above Bordeaux."

"We had hoped to go from still farther south," Hilliard answered.
"We have penetrated a good many of the rivers, or rather I have, and
we came up here to see the sand-dunes and forests of the Landes,
which are new to me. A very desolate country, is it not?"

Mr. Coburn agreed, continuing courteously:

"I am glad at all events that your researches have brought you into
our neighborhood. We do not come across many visitors here, and it
is pleasant occasionally to speak one's own language to someone
outside one's household. If you will put up with pot-luck I am sure
we should both be glad - " he looked at his daughter" - if you would
wait and take some dinner with us now. Tomorrow you could explore
the woods, which are really worth seeing though monotonous, and if
you are at all interested I should like to show you our little works.
But I warn you the affair is my hobby, as well as my business for
the time being, and I am apt to assume others have as great an
interest in it as myself. You must not let me bore you."