He was thinking only of naked fists.
Into a canoe he followed the bateau man, who turned his craft
swiftly in the direction of the opposite shore. And as they went,
David was sure he caught the slight movement of a curtain at the
little window of Marie-Anne's forward cabin. He smiled back and
raised his hand, and at that the curtain was drawn back entirely,
and he knew that St. Pierre's wife was watching him as he went to
the fight.
The raft was deserted, but a little below it, on a wide strip of
beach made hard and smooth by flood water, had gathered a crowd of
men. It seemed odd to David they should remain so quiet, when he
knew the natural instinct of the riverman was to voice his emotion
at the top of his lungs. He spoke of this to the bateau man, who
shrugged his shoulders and grinned.
"Eet ees ze command of St. Pierre," he explained. "St. Pierre say
no man make beeg noise at--what you call heem--funeral? An' theese
goin' to be wan gran' fun-e-RAL, m'sieu!"
"I see," David nodded. He did not grin back at the other's humor.
He was looking at the crowd. A giant figure had appeared out of
the center of it and was coming slowly down to the river.
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