"Mebby week, mebby more. He long
way off."
"Is he an old man?"
Slowly Bateese turned David about until he was facing him. "You
ask not'ing more about St. Pierre," he warned. "No mans talk 'bout
St. Pierre. Only wan--MA BELLE Jeanne. You ask her, an' she tell
you shut up. W'en you don't shut up she call Bateese to brak your
head."
"You're a--a sort of all-round head-breaker, as I understand it,"
grunted David, walking slowly back to his bed. "Will you bring me
my pack and clothes in the morning? I want to shave and dress."
Bateese was ahead of him, smoothing the pillows and straightening
out the rumpled bed-clothes. His huge hands were quick and capable
as a woman's, and David could not keep himself from chuckling at
this feminine ingeniousness of the powerful half-breed. Once in
the crush of those gorilla-like arms that were working over his
bed now, he thought, and it would be all over with the strongest
man in "N" Division. Bateese heard the chuckle and looked up.
"Somet'ing ver' funny once more, is eet--w'at?" he demanded.
"I was thinking, Bateese--what will happen to me if you get me in
those arms when we fight? But it isn't going to happen.
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