It is not good for you: Bateese, will
you tell m'sieu not to talk?"
Carrigan heard a movement behind him.
"M'sieu, you will stop ze talk or I brak hees head wit' ze paddle
in my han'!" came the voice of Bateese close to his shoulder. "Do
I mak' ze word plain so m'sieu compren'?"
"I get you, old man," grunted Carrigan. "I get you--both!"
And he leaned back against his dunnage-sack, staring again at the
witching slimness of the lovely Jeanne Marie-Anne Boulain as she
calmly resumed her paddling in the bow of the canoe.
V
In the few minutes following the efficient and unexpected warning
of Bateese an entirely new element of interest entered into the
situation for David Carrigan. He had more than once assured
himself that he had made a success of his profession of man-
hunting not because he was brighter than the other fellow, but
largely because he possessed a sense of humor and no vanities to
prick. He was in the game because he loved the adventure of it. He
was loyal to his duty, but he was not a worshipper of the law, nor
did he covet the small monthly stipend of dollars and cents that
came of his allegiance to it.
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