The Minneapolis journal., 1901-11-02
CHAPTER XXI.
LOUIS PAYS ME- BACK.

What tempted me to moor opposite the
ruins of Fort Gibraltar? What tempts the
fly into the spiders web and the fish with a
wide ocean for play ground into one small
net? l know there is a consoling fashion of
ascribing our blunders to the inscrutable
wisdom OF long suffering providence; but
common sense forbids l should call evil good,
defy my errors, and give thanks for what
befalls me solely through my own fault
Bare posts hacked to the ground were all
that remained of Fort Glbraltar's old wall.
had not gone many PAGES across the former
courtyard, when voices sounded from the
gravel-pit that had once done duty as a
cellar. The next thing I noticed was the
shaggy face of Louis Laplante bobbing above
the ground. With other vagabond wanderers,
the Frenchman had evidently been rummAg-
ing old Nor West vaults
''Tra-la, comrade," he shouted, leaping out
Of the cellar as soon as he saw me- 81 Louis
Laplante, son Of a seigneur, am resurrecting.
l was Plante! Now I'm a Louis or, fresh
coined from the golden vein of dazzling wit.
Once we were men, but they drowned us in
a wine barrel like your lucky dog of an Eng
iish prince. Now we're earth -goblins rein
carnate! Behold gnomes of the mine! Knaves
of the nethermost depths tra-la! Vampires
that suck the blood of whisky cellars and
float to the skies with dusky wings and dizzy
heads! Laugh with US, old solemncholy See
the ground spn! Laugh, say, or be a hitch
Ing post, and we'll dance the May pole round
you! We're vampires ccmrade and you re
our cousin, for you're bat" and Louis ap-
plauded his joke with loud, tpsy laughter
and staggered up to me drunk as a lord His
heavy breath and bloodshot eyes testified
what he had found under the rubbish heaps
of Fort Gibraltar's cellar. Embracing me
wit ho Of Loot
ratified on with a befuddled, meaningless lar
gon.
$50 the knife cut well, did It? And the
Sioux did not eat you by inches, beginning
with your thumbs? Ha! Tres bien. Very
good taste! You were not meant for feasts.
my solemncholy? Some men are monuments.
That's you, mine frien'! Some are cham
pagne bottles that uncorR, zip, f1zz, froth.
stars dancing round your headi That's me!
'Tis 1, Louis Laplante. son of Eeigneur, am
that champagne bottle!"
Pausing for breath. he drew himself erect
with ridiculous pomposity Now there are
times when the bravest and .wisest thing a
brave and wise man can do is to take to his
heels. / have heard my Uncle Jack Mac
Kenzie say that vice and liquor and
folly are best frustrated by flight; and all
three seemed to be embodied in Louis La
plante that night stupid sort of curiosity
made me daily with the mischief brewing in
him, just as the fly plays with the spider
web or the fish with a baited hook
There's a fountain-spout in Nor'west
vaults for those who know where to tap the
spigot, eh, Louis?" asked.
I'm a Hudson's Bay man, and to the con-
queror comes the tribute returned Louis,
sweeping me a courtly bow.
81 hope such a generous conqueror draws
all the tribute he deserves. Do you remem-
Der how you saved my life twice from the
Sioux, Louis?"
Generous" shouted the Frenchman, draw
ing himself up proudly, generous to mine
enemy, always magnificent, grand, superb. as
becomes the son Of a seigneur! Now l pay
you. back, rich, well, generous
Nonsense. Louis expostulated. 'Tis
who am In your debt. owe you my life
twice over. How shall I pay your and ]
made to go down TO my canoe.
PAY me3" demanded Louis. thrusting HIM