'My friend Monsieur Iberville ?' I said; 'ah! he will be in Quebec soon.' Then I told her of the abbe, and she took from a chain a little medallion and gave it me in memory of the time we saved her.

And before I could say Thank you, she had gone--Well, that is all--except this." He drew from his breast a chain of silver, from which hung the gold medallion, and shook his head at it with good-humour.

But presently a hard look came on his face, and he was changed from the cheerful woodsman into the chief of bushrangers.

Iberville read the look, and presently said: "Perrot, men have fought for less than gold from a woman's chain and a buckle from her shoe." "I have fought from Trois Pistoles to Michilimackinac for the toss of a louis-d'or." "As you say.

Well, what think you--" He paused, rose, walked up and down the room, caught his moustache between his teeth once or twice, and seemed buried in thought.