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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Flaming Forest"

And then there came to
him a sound that was different than the other sounds--a low
monotone of voices, the dipping of a paddle--and a canoe passed
close under his windows and up the shore. He paid small attention
to it until, a little later, the canoe returned, and its occupants
boarded the bateau. It would have roused little interest in him
then had he not heard a voice that was thrillingly like the voice
of a woman.
He drew his hunched shoulders erect and stared through the
darkness toward the door. A moment more and there was no doubt. It
was almost shock that sent the blood leaping suddenly through his
veins. The inconceivable had happened. It was Marie-Anne out
there, talking in a low voice to Bateese!
Then there came a heavy knock at his door, and he heard the door
open. Through it he saw the grayer gloom of the outside night
partly shut out a heavy shadow.
"M'sieu!" called the voice of Bateese.
"I am here," said David.
"You have not gone to bed, m'sieu?"
"No."
The heavy shadow seemed to fade away, and yet there still remained
a shadow there. David's heart thumped as he noted the slenderness
of it. For a space there was silence.


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