He walked to the window, peered forth at
the raft, and as he shrugged his big shoulders again something
like a groan came from him.
The thrill of approaching triumph swept through David's blood. The
flame of it was in his eyes when St. Pierre turned from the
window.
"And you are disappointed, St. Pierre? You would like to see that
fight!"
The blue steel in St. Pierre's eyes flashed back. "If the price
were a year of my life, I would give it--if Bateese did not eat
you up too quickly. I love to look upon a good fight, where there
is no venom of hatred in the blows!"
"Then you shall see a good fight, St. Pierre."
"Bateese would kill you, m'sieu. You are not big. You are not his
match."
"I shall whip him, St. Pierre--whip him until he avows me his
master."
"You do not know the half-breed, m'sieu. Twice I have tried him in
friendly combat myself and have been beaten."
"But I shall whip him," repeated Carrigan. "I will wager you
anything--anything in the world--even life against life--that I
whip him!"
The gloom had faded from the face of St. Pierre Boulain. But in a
moment it clouded again.
"My Jeanne has made me promise that I will stop the fight," he
said.
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