"
"And he'll do it, too, will the terrible father!" interjected another
soldier.
"When will the fun begin?" asked a third.
"O!" responded the first speaker, "if the villagers make no fuss, and are
ready to cross the river and come and settle over here with us, they shall
have all the time they want for removing their stuff--all day, in fact.
But if they are stubborn, and would like to stay where they are, and
knuckle down to the English, they will see their roofs blazing over
their heads just about the time the first English boat puts off for
shore. If any one kicks, why, as like as not, one of His Reverence's
red skins will lift his hair for him."
A chorus of exclamations, with much shrugging of shoulders, went round
the group at this; and one said thoughtfully: "When my fighting days
are over, and I get back to France, I shall pray all the saints to keep
Father Le Loutre in Acadie. With such fierce priests in old France
I should be afraid to go to mass!"
Pierre listened to all this with a sinking heart. Not waiting to hear
more, he turned away, with the one thought of getting home as soon as
possible to warn his father of the destruction hanging over their
happy home. At this moment the soldier who had been doing most of the
talking caught sight of him, and called out:
"Hullo, youngster, come here a minute!"
Pierre turned back with obvious reluctance, and the speaker continued:
"Your father, now, the good Antoine--whom may the saints preserve,
for his butter and his cheeses are right excellent--does he greatly
love this gentle abbe of yours?"
The boy looked about him apprehensively, and blurted out, "No,
monsieur!" A flush mounted to his cheek, and he continued, in a voice
of bitterness, "We hate him!" Then, as if terrified with having spoken
his true thought, the lad darted away down the slope, and was soon
seen speeding at a long trot across the young grass of the marsh
to the ford of the Missaguash.
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