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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Flaming Forest"

I t'ink you be good fighting man in week!"
"And you will help me up?"
Bateese was a changed man. Again David felt that mighty but gentle
strength of his arms as he helped him to his feet. He was a trifle
unsteady for a moment. Then, with the half-breed close at his
side, ready to catch him if his legs gave way, he walked to one of
the windows and looked out. Across the river, fully half a mile
away, he saw the glow of fires.
"Her camp?" he asked.
"OUI, m'sieu."
"We have moved from the tar-sands?"
"Yes, two days down ze river."
"Why are they not camping over here with us?"
Bateese gave a disgusted grunt. "Becaus' MA BELLE Jeanne have such
leetle bird heart, m'sieu. She say you mus' not have noise near,
lak ze talk an' laugh an' ZE CHANSONS. She say it disturb, an' zat
it rnak you worse wit' ze fever. She ees mak you lak de baby,
Bateese say to her. But she on'y laugh at zat an' snap her leetle
w'ite finger. Wait St. Pierre come! He brak yo'r head wit' hees
two fists. I hope we have ze fight before then, m'sieu!"
"We'll have it anyway, Bateese. Where is St. Pierre, and when
shall we see him?"
Bateese shrugged his shoulders.


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