to hurry. I have a mind to know; so while I am at New York I go to
Boston. It makes a man's mind great to travel. I have been east to
Boston; I have been west beyond the Ottawa and the Michilimackinac, out
to the Mississippi. Yes. Well, what did I find in Boston? Peste! I
found that they were all like men in purgatory--sober and grave. Truly.
And so dull! Never a saint-day, never a feast, never a grand council
when the wine, the rum, flow so free, and you shall eat till you choke.
Nothing. Everything is stupid; they do not smile. And so the Indians
make war! Well, I have found this. There is a great man from the
Kennebec called William Phips. He has traded in the Indies. Once while
he was there he heard of that treasure. Ha! ha! There have been so
many fools on that trail. The governor of New York was a fool when
Bucklaw played his game; he would have been a greater if he had gone
with Bucklaw."

Here Iberville would have spoken, but Perrot waved his hand. "De grace,
a minute only. Monsieur Gering, the brave English lieutenant, is at
Hudson's Bay, and next summer he will go with the great William Phips--
Tonnerre, what a name--William Phips! Like a pot of herring! He will go
with him after the same old treasure. Boston is a big place, but I hear
these things."

Usually a man of few words, Perrot had bursts of eloquence, and this was
one of them. But having made his speech, he settled back to his tobacco
and into the orator's earned repose.

Iberville looked up from the fire and said: "Perrot, you saw her in New
York. What speech was there between you?"

Perrot's eyes twinkled. "There was not much said.