He turned to the door. A moment later it
closed behind him, and David was alone. He had not spoken. He had
not replied to the engulfing truths that had fallen quietly and
without a betrayal of passion from St. Pierre's lips. Inwardly he
was crushed. Yet his face was like stone, hiding his shame. And
then, suddenly, there came a sound from outside that sent the
blood through his cold veins again. It was laughter, the great,
booming laughter of St. Pierre! It was not the merriment of a man
whose heart was bleeding, or into whose life had come an
unexpected pain or grief. It was wild and free, and filled with
the joy of the sun-filled day.
And David, listening to it, felt something that was more than
admiration for this man growing within him. And unconsciously his
lips repeated St. Pierre's words.
"Tomorrow--you will fight."
XVII
For many minutes David stood at the bateau window and watched the
canoe that carried St. Pierre Boulain and the Broken Man back to
the raft. It moved slowly, as if St. Pierre was loitering with a
purpose and was thinking deeply of what had passed. Carrigan's
fingers tightened, and his face grew tense, as he gazed out into
the glow of the western sun.
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