He licked his lips clumsily.
"What is the matter?
What hurt you ?" The Governor rubbed his forehead trying to recollect.
"He struck me," he presently said with difficulty.

"He hit me with his fist Where--where is he ?" "Who ?" "That big French idiot--that Roussillon--go after him, take him, shoot him--quick! I have been stunned; I don't know how long he's been gone.
Give the alarm--do something!" Hamilton, as he gathered his wits together, began to foam with rage, and his passion gave his bruised and swollen face a terrible look.
The story was short, and may be quickly told.

M.Roussillon had taken advantage of the first moment when he and Hamilton were left alone.

One herculean buffet, a swinging smash of his enormous fist on the point of the Governors jaw, and then he walked out of the fort unchallenged, doubtless on account of his lordly and masterful air.
"Ziff!" he exclaimed, shaking himself and lifting his shoulders, when he had passed beyond hearing of the sentinel at the gate, "ziff! I can punch a good stiff stroke yet, Monsieur le Gouverneur.

Ah, ziff!" and he blew like a porpoise.
Every effort was promptly made to recapture M.Roussillon; but his disappearance was absolute; even the reward offered for his scalp by Hamilton only gave the Indians great trouble--they could not find the man.
Such a beginning of his administration of affairs at Vincennes did not put Hamilton into a good humor.