The council of war ceased, and Laroque was asked:
"Could men land below and approach the post from the rear?"
This, most of all, was what the Cree feared the Germans might do, for the people at Albany would never know of their coming until they emerged from the scrub behind the post. The yelping of huskies was so common at Albany that no attention would be paid to it.
"No," he answered; "beeg swamp seex mile' long below Albanee."
Again the captain poured three fingers of brandy into a glass.
"Come, now, you're a good fellow," he urged, offering the liquor to Laroque. "The fog is wet; a little drink will warm you up."
Each of the officers filled a glass, waiting for the Cree to take the one in the captain's extended hand.
Gaspard Laroque grinned guilelessly into the face of his would-be seducer.
"De water of fire eet mak' me sick." With a grimace, he placed a sinewy hand over his stomach.
The eyes of the Germans met in dubious glances. Here was a new breed of barbarian, impervious to the seduction of alcohol. It was astounding, contrary to all experience. Slowly the disgusted captain returned the proffered brandy to the table.
"Now, see here," he began, and, reaching back into the drawer of his desk, brought out a handful of gold coin, clinking it in the Cree's impassive face. "You tell me the truth and pilot the launches up to the fort,
