"
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. Once or
twice he was about to speak, but changed his mind. He was calculating
many things: planning, counting chances, marshalling his resources.
Presently he glanced round the room. His eyes fell on a map. That
was it. It was a mere outline, but enough. Putting his finger on it,
he sent it up, up, up, till it settled on the shores of Hudson's Bay.
Again he ran the finger from the St. Lawrence up the coast and through
Hudson's Straits, but shook his head in negation. Then he stood, looked
at the map steadily, and presently, still absorbed, turned to the table.
He saw the violin, picked it up, and handed it to De Casson:
"Something with a smack of war," he said.
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