Part 12 (1/2)
”I don't think so. I wish I had ever so many books like the Sieur and M.
Hebert. And you can find out places--there are so many of them in the world. And do you know there are English people working with all their might down in Virginia, and Spanish and Dutch! But some day we shall drive them all out and it will be New France as far as you can go. And the Indians----”
”You can't drive the Indians out,” exclaimed Pani decisively. ”The whole country is theirs. And there are so many of them. There are tribes and tribes all over the land. And they know how to fight.”
”They are fighting each other continually. M. Hebert says they will sweep each other off after a while. And they are very cruel. You will see the French do not fight the French.”
Alas, young Pierre Gaudrion, already Catholic and Huguenot were at war: one fighting for the right to live in a certain liberty of belief, the other thinking they did G.o.d a service by undertaking their extermination.
The argument rather floored Pani, whose range of knowledge was only wide enough to know that many tribes were at bitter enmity with each other.
”Do you want to work in the garden? There are weeds enough to keep you busy,” said Pierre presently.
”No,” returned Pani stoutly.
”And Pani belongs to me,” declared Rose.
Pierre turned to look at the girl. Her beauty stirred him strangely.
Sometimes, when his father sang the old songs of home, the same quiver went through every pulse.
”I'm sorry,” he said, in a gentler tone. ”Now I must go back to my chair.”
”Is it to be a chair?”
”I can't weave the gra.s.ses just right, though some one showed me, only I was thinking of other things.”
”Let's see.” Pani was a little mollified.
They went back to the boy's work.
”I'm only making a little one for Marie. Then I shall try a larger one.
There are two in the room.”
Yes, Rose knew them well. The place was about the same, with the great bunk on one side and the smaller one on the other. Mere Dubray's bright blankets were gone, with the pictures of the Virgin, and the high candlestick, that was alight on certain days. Little mattresses filled with dried gra.s.s were piled on top of the bunk. It looked like, and yet unlike. Rose was glad she did not live here.
Pani inspected the boy's work.
”Oh, you haven't it right. You must put pegs in here, then you can pull it up. And this is the way you go.”
Pani's deft fingers went in and out like a bit of machinery. It was forest lore, and he was at home in it.
”You make it beautiful,” exclaimed Pierre. ”Oh, go slower, so I can understand.”
Pani smiled with the praise and put in a word of explanation now and then. The boys were fast becoming friends.
”Maman,” Pierre cried, ”come and see how fine the boy does it. If he would come and live with us!”
”I might come a little while and look after the garden. And I could catch fish and I know the best places for berries, and the grapes will soon be ripening. And the plums. I can shoot birds with an arrow. But I belong to mam'selle.”
”If she will let you come now and then,” wistfully.