"Shall we be
waiting long?"
"Two or three days, perhaps a little longer. Are you coming with
me to the proue, m'sieu?"
She did not wait for his answer, but went ahead of him, dangling
the two pairs of gloves at her side. David caught a last glimpse
of the half-breed's face as he followed Marie-Anne around the end
of the cabin. Bateese was making a frightful grimace and shaking
his huge fist, but scarcely were they out of sight on the narrow
footway that ran between the cabin and the outer timbers of the
scow when a huge roar of laughter followed them. Bateese had not
done laughing when they reached the proue, or bow-nest, a deck
fully ten feet in length by eight in width, sheltered above by an
awning, and comfortably arranged with chairs, several rugs, a
small table, and, to David's amazement, a hammock. He had never
seen anything like this on the Three Rivers, nor had he ever heard
of a scow so large or so luxuriously appointed. Over his head, at
the tip of a flagstaff attached to the forward end of the cabin,
floated the black and white pennant of St. Pierre Boulain. And
under this staff was a screened door which undoubtedly opened into
the kitchenette which Marie-Anne had told him about.
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