"I suppose," he said, "you gentlemen would lay ship to ship and blaze away?"
"Why not?" spoke up an officer. "Those are the approved naval tactics, monsieur?"
Iberville's laugh blared out. "Aye, of course! But not my tactics, gentlemen. If we do meet the English, I intend to invent new tactics; fight them Indian fashion! No, never mind explanations. Wait and see what happens when the time comes! There's always something new over the horizon, if one can find it. Some day, when we've thrown the English out of all this northland, I want to seek a new country, found a new colony for France—far down in the south. I'll take my Canadians to Louisiana and build an empire there!"
"Ice? Be damned to it! We'll fight through the straits somehow!"
They laughed at his dream, his vision of the future. Bess Adams, however, went back and forth at her work, fingers trembling on the dishes, eyes alight, cheeks flushed. This seigneur, this hero, captain of all the fleet, needed one thing—and she alone could supply his lack!
The secret quivered within her, until her very heart hungered and cried out.
Later, when the crowd broke up, the three le Moyne brethren sat talking among themselves, laughing, radiant, with tales of Canada, the court, the snowshoe campaign. And of a sudden their voices died and their bright eyes focussed, as the tap-boy came and stood before them, eager gaze fastened on Iberville. He glanced up and smiled.
"Ha, brave eyes! What is it, lad?"
"Why, monsieur," said Bess Adams, choking a little with excitement, "are
