He made no
effort to hide his surprise. But St. Pierre's wife seemed not to
notice it. The puckery little lines were still in her forehead,
and the laughter had faded out of her eyes. The tiny lines
deepened as there came another wild roar of laughter from Bateese
in the stern.
"Is it true that you have given your word to fight Bateese?" she
asked.
"It is true, Marie-Anne. And I feel that Bateese is looking ahead
joyously to the occasion."
"He is," she affirmed. "Last night he spread the news among all my
people. Those who left to join St. Pierre this morning have taken
the news with them, and there is a great deal of excitement and
much betting. I am afraid you have made a bad promise. No man has
offered to fight Bateese in three years--not even my great St.
Pierre, who says that Concombre is more than a match for him."
"And yet they must have a little doubt, as there is betting, and
it takes two to make a bet," chuckled David.
The lines went out of Marie-Anne's forehead, and a half-smile
trembled on her red lips. "Yes, there is betting. But those who
are for you are offering next autumn's muskrat skins and frozen
fish against lynx and fisher and marten.
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