The
priests with their captivating story of the Cross had a large
influence in softening savage natures and averting many an awful
danger; but when everything else failed, rum always came to the
rescue of a threatened French post.
We need not wonder, then, when we are told that Father Beret made
no sign of distress or disapproval upon being informed of the
arrival of a boat loaded with rum, brandy or gin. It was Rene de
Ronville who brought the news, the same Rene already mentioned as
having given the priest a plate of squirrels. He was sitting on
the doorsill of Father Beret's hut, when the old man reached it
after his visit at the Roussillon home, and held in his hand a
letter which he appeared proud to deliver.
"A batteau and seven men, with a cargo of liquor, came during the
rain," he said, rising and taking off his curious cap, which, made
of an animal's skin, had a tail jauntily dangling from its crown-
tip; "and here is a letter for you, Father. The batteau is from
New Orleans. Eight men started with it; but one went ashore to
hunt and was killed by an Indian."
Father Beret took the letter without apparent interest and said:
"Thank you, my son, sit down again; the door-log is not wetter
than the stools inside; I will sit by you."
The wind had driven a flood of rain into the cabin through the
open door, and water twinkled in puddles here and there on the
floor's puncheons.
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