"Undoubtedly there is more than one pirate from the Gulf or the Caribbean
among them," said Lieutenant Bernal, "but the pirates perhaps are not the
worst. Louisiana and New Orleans can supply many a desperate villain of
their own."
"Sent by Europe!" said Paul.
"Truly so. An old country always seeks to disgorge such people upon a new
one. But Monsieur Gilibert, the proprietor of this inn, on the whole,
maintains good order among his customers. As you can now see, Monsieur
Gilibert is a man of parts."
The proprietor, wearing a cook's cap and white apron, emerged that moment
from his kitchen. He was not above supervising, and even doing his own
cooking, and, because of it, his inn had acquired a great reputation for
excellence of food, as well as drink.
Many of the French in New Orleans were Provencals, but Monsieur Gilibert
was from the North of France, a huge, flaxen-haired man with a large
square chin, and a fearless countenance. His blue eye roved around the
room and lighted upon the five and their host, Lieutenant Diego Bernal, at
the secluded table. He noted that every one of the five had a long rifle
leaning by his chair, and he shrewdly surmised that they were from the
wilderness of the far North.
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