"It's about even-things between us, Grandois?" asked Carnac, and held
out his hand. "My father hit you, but you hit him harder by forgetting
about the smallpox and the rent, and also by drinking up the cash that
ought to have paid the rent. It doesn't matter now that the rent was
never paid, but it does that you recall the smallpox debt. Can't you say
a word for me, Grandois? You're a big man here among all the workers.
I'm a better Frenchman than the man I'm trying to turn out. Just a word
for a good cause.

"They're waiting for you, and your hand on it! Here's a place for you on
the roost. Come up."

The "roost" was an upturned tub lying face down on the ground, and in
the passion of the moment, the little man gripped Carnac's hand and stood
on the tub to great cheering; for if there was one thing the French-
Canadians love, it is sensation, and they were having it. They were
mostly Barouche's men, but they were emotional, and melodrama had stirred
their feelings.

Besides, like the Irish, they had a love of feminine nature, and in all
the river-coves Junia was known by sight at least, and was admired. She
had the freshness of face and mind which is the heart of success with the
habitants. With Eugene Grandois on his feet, she heard a speech which
had in it the best spirit of Gallic eloquence, though it was crude. But
it was forcible and adroit.

"Friends and comrades," said Eugene Grandois, with his hands playing
loosely, "there's been misunderstandings between me and the Grier family,
and I was out against it, but I see things different since M'sieu' Carnac
has spoke--and I'm changing my mind--certainlee. That throwing out of my