"I saw him once in the Spaniards' country," said Iberville, "when we
swore to love each other less and less."

"What was the trouble?" asked the priest.

"Pirates' booty, which he, with a large force, seized as a few of my men
were carrying it to the coast. With his own hand he cut down my servant,
who had been with me since from the first. Afterwards in a parley I saw
him, and we exchanged--compliments. The sordid gentleman thought I was
fretting about the booty. Good God, what are some thousand pistoles to
the blood of one honest friend!"

"And in your mind another leaven worked," ventured the priest.

"Another leaven, as you say," responded Iberville. "So, for your story,
abbe."

"Of the first journey there is nothing more to tell, save that the
English governor said you were as brave a gentleman as ever played
ambassador--which was, you remember, much in Count Frontenac's vein."

Iberville nodded and smiled. "Frontenac railed at my impertinence also."

"But gave you a sword when you told him the news of Radisson,"
interjected Perrot. "And by and by I've things to say of him."

The abbe continued: "For my second visit, but a few months ago. We
priests have gone much among the Iroquois, even in the English country,
and, as I promised you, I went to New York. There I was summoned to the
governor. He commanded me to go back to Quebec. I was about to ask him