"Why didn't he?" asked the Lieutenant. "Surely he must have been
among the first to learn of it."

"Yes. 'Stick' George sent him word a year ago last fall, when he
made the first discovery, but for some reason father wouldn't go."

The men were pouring off the boat now, and through the crowd came
the tall Frenchman, bearing in the hollow of each arm a child who
clasped a bundle to its breast. His eyes grew brighter at sight of
Necia, and he broke into a flood of patois; they fairly bombarded
each other with quick questions and fragmentary answers till she
remembered her companion, who had fallen back a pace and was
studying the newcomer, whereupon she turned.

"Oh, I forgot my manners. Lieutenant Burrell, this is Napoleon
Doret--our Poleon!" she added, with proud emphasis.

Doret checked his volubility and stared at the soldier, whom he
appeared to see for the first time. The little brown people in his
arms stared likewise, and it seemed to Burrell that a certain
distrust was in each of the three pairs of eyes, only in those of
the man there was no shyness. Instead, the Canadian looked him over
gravely from head to heel, seeming to note each point of the
unfamiliar attire; then he inquired, without removing his glance:

"Were'bouts you live, eh?"

"I live at the post yonder," said the Lieutenant.

"Wat biznesse you work at?"