It is a lovely morning in Spring as we approach their dwelling. We
enter the lawn by a side-gate. We need not go into the house, for there
is no one within doors. The weather is too fine for that, but they are
all at home notwithstanding. They are in the lawn in front, and the
verandah.
They are differently occupied. The Colonel himself is engaged feeding
his pets. Hugot is helping him, and carries the basket containing their
food.
You would call the Colonel a fine-looking man. His hair is as white as
bleached flax. So, too, are his moustaches. He wears no beard. His
face is cleanly shaved, showing a complexion bronzed and somewhat ruddy.
The expression of his countenance is mild, though firm. He is much
thinner than he has been in his time, on account of the amputation of
his leg, which often produces this effect. His dress is simple. A
jacket of yellow nankeen, a striped cotton shirt, with loose cottonade
trousers of bright sky colour. A Panama hat, with very broad brim,
shades his eyes from the sun, and his shirt is open at the throat, for
the day is warm. Thus is the Colonel attired. Hugot is dressed after a
somewhat similar fashion; but the material of his jacket and trousers is
coarser, and his hat is of the common palmetto leaf.
Look at Basil, the oldest of the boys. He is at work fixing some straps
to a hunting-saddle, that lies on the grass beside him. Basil is
exactly seventeen years of age. He is a fine-looking lad, though not
what you might call handsome. His face has a courageous expression, and
his form betokens strength. His hair is straight, and black as jet. He
is more like an Italian than either of his brothers. He is, in fact,
the son of his father--a true Corsican. Basil is a "mighty hunter." He
is more fond of the chase than of aught else. He loves hunting for
itself, and delights in its dangers. He has got beyond the age of
bird-catching and squirrel shooting. His ambition is not now to be
satisfied with anything less exciting than a panther, bear, or buffalo
hunt.
How very unlike him is Lucien, the second in age! Unlike in almost
everything. Lucien is delicately formed, with a light complexion and
very fair hair. He is more like what his mother was, for she was
fair-haired and _blonde_, as are many of her people--the Basques.
Lucien is passionately fond of books and study. He is busy with a book
just now in the verandah. He is a student of natural history in
general, but botany and geology are his favourite sciences, and he has
made considerable progress in both. He accompanies Basil on all hunting
expeditions; but, in the midst of the most exciting chase, Lucien would
leap down from his horse if a rare plant or flower, or an odd-looking
rock, was to fall under his eye. Lucien talks but little--not half so
much as most boys--but although habitually silent he possesses a rare
good sense; and when he offers his advice upon any question, it is
usually received with respect by the others. Such is the secret
influence of intellect and education.
Next and last, we have Francois, a quick-witted, curly-haired urchin--
merry to madness--cheerful at all times--changeable in his tastes and
likings--versatile in talents--in short, more of a Frenchman than any of
them. Francois is a great bird-catcher. He is at this moment engaged
in repairing his nets; and his double-barrel shot gun, which he has just
finished cleaning, rests beside him. Francois is a favourite with
everybody, but a great pest to Hugot, upon whom he plays numerous
tricks.
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While the naturalist and his family were thus engaged, a loud booming
noise was heard at some distance off, down the river. It somewhat
resembled the regular firing of great guns, though the explosions
sounded softer and more hollow.
"A steamboat!" cried Francois, whose ear first caught the sounds.
"Yes," muttered Basil, "from New Orleans, I expect, and bound to Saint
Louis."
"No, brother," said Lucien, quietly raising himself from his book. "She
is an Ohio boat."
"How can you tell that, Luce?" inquired Francois.
"From the sound of her 'scape, of course. I can distinguish the boat.
She is the `Buck-eye'--mail-boat for Cincinnati."
In a short time the white cloud of steam was seen ascending over the
trees; and then the huge vessel came "bulging" around a bend of the
river, cleaving the brown current as she went. She was soon opposite
the lawn; and, sure enough, proved to be what Lucien had said she was--
the mail-steamer "Buck-eye." This was a triumph for Lucien, although he
bore it with characteristic modesty.
The boat had not passed many minutes, when the loud screeching of her
steam was heard in the direction of Point Coupee. They could tell from
this that she was putting in at the landing.
"Hugot!" cried the Colonel, "their may be something for us. Go and
see."
Without waiting for further orders, Hugot started on his errand. He was
a brisk walker, Hugot; and was back again in a trice. He brought with
him a letter of goodly size and appearance.
"From Prince Lucien!" cried Francois, who was sure to have the first
word in everything. "It is from the Prince, papa; I know the seal."
"Quiet, Francois! quiet!" said his father, reprovingly; at the same time
hobbling into the verandah, and calling for his spectacles.
The letter was soon opened, and perused.
"Hugot!" cried the Colonel, after he had finished reading it.
Hugot made no reply, but threw himself in front of his master, with his
hand raised to his eyebrows _a la militaire_.
"Hugot, you must go to Saint Louis."
"_Bien, mon Colonel_!"
"You must start by the first boat."
"_Tres-bien, mon Colonel_!"
"You must procure for me the skin of a _white buffalo_."
"That will not be difficult, monsieur."
"More difficult than you imagine, I fear."
"With money, monsieur?"
"Ay, even with money, Hugot. Look you! It is a _skin_ I want--not a
robe--but a perfect skin with the head, feet, and all complete, and fit
for stuffing."
"Ah! mon Colonel! that is different."
"Ah! you may say so. I fear it will be difficult, indeed," soliloquised
the Colonel, with a thoughtful air. "I very much doubt whether we can
get it at all; but it must be had, cost _what it may_--ay, _cost what it
may_."
"I will do my best, Colonel."
"Try at every fur-store in Saint Louis,--inquire among the hunters and
trappers--you know where to find them. If these fail you, put an
advertisement in the newspapers--advertise both in English and French.
Go to Monsieur Choteau--anywhere. Spare no expense, but get me the
skin."
"_Restez tranquille, mon Colonel_; I shall do all that."
"Make ready, then, to start. There may be a steamer going up before
night. Hush! I hear one this very moment. It may be a Saint Louis
boat."
All stood for a moment silent and listening. The 'scape of another boat
coming up the river could be heard plain enough.
"It is a Saint Louis boat," said Lucien. "It is the `Belle of the
West.'"
Lucien, who had a quick talent in that way, could tell, by the sound of
their steam-pipe, almost every boat that plied upon the Mississippi. In
half-an-hour the steamer hove in sight, and it was seen that he had
again guessed correctly. It was a Saint Louis boat, and the "Belle of
the West," too!
Hugot had not many preparations to make; and before the boat had arrived
opposite to the house, he had arranged everything--received some further
instructions, with a purse of money, from his master--and was off to
Point Coupee, to meet the steamer at the landing.