Grinning, he told
himself that it was an insult to think of her and a half-drowned
partridge in the same breath. But the simile still remained, and
he chuckled. Probably she was wringing out her clothes now, and
the men were cursing under their breath while trying to light a
fire. He watched for the fire. It failed to appear. Probably she
was hating him for bringing all this discomfort and humiliation
upon her. It was not impossible that tomorrow she would give
Bateese permission to brain him. And St. Pierre? What would this
man, her husband, think and do if he knew that his wife had given
up her bedroom to this stranger? What complications might arise IF
HE KNEW!
It was late--past midnight--when Carrigan went to bed. Even then
he did not sleep for a long time. The patter of the rain grew less
and less on the roof of the bateau, and as the sound of it droned
itself off into nothingness, slumber came. David was conscious of
the moment when the rain ceased entirely. Then he slept. At least
he must have been very close to sleep, or had been asleep and was
returning for a moment close to consciousness, when he heard a
voice. It came several times before he was roused enough to
realize that it was a voice.
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