ake little interest in what was going
on. Victor stood with one foot tapping the floor impatiently. He had
been quick to notice that Jean's great eyes had stolen in the direction
of the little oaken keg. At last he threw the tin beaker aside as if in
disgust. He played his part consummately.

"'Tain't no go, boys. I'm not drinkin'. Thet's what. Look at him," he
cried, pointing at Jean. "We've had words, I guess. Him an' me, an' he's
that riled as he don't notion suppin' good thick rum wi' us. Wal, I
guess it'll keep, what you boys can't do in. Ther's the pannikin, ther's
the keg. Jest help yourselves, lads, when you fancy. I ain't tastin'
with bad blood runnin' in this shack."

"What, no drink?" cried old Pierre, his face beaming with oily
geniality. "Dis no lak ole time, Victor. What's de fuss? Mebbe I tink
right. Squaw, Vic, squaw."

The old boy chuckled heartily at his pleasantry. He was a
French-Canadian half-breed and spoke with a strong foreign accent.
Ambrose joined in the laugh.

"Ho, Jean, man," cried the latter. "No bad blood, I'm guessin'. Ther's
good thick rum, lad, an' I mind you're a'mighty partial most gener'ly."

Victor had started the ball rolling, and he knew that neither Pierre nor
Ambrose were likely to let it rest until they had had all the rum they
wanted. Everything had been made snug for the night so they only had
their own pleasure to consider. As Ambrose's challenge fell upon his
ears Jean looked up. His eyes were very bright and they rested longingly
upon the keg on their way to the driver's face. He shook his head, but
there was not much decision in the movement.

Pierre seeing the action stepped up to him and shook a warning finger in
his face.

"Hey, you, Jean-le-gros, pig-head. We come lak Hell, four hundred mile
to see you. We bring you drink, everyting. You not say 'How.' We not
welcome. Bah, I spit! In my Quebec we lak our frien's to come. We treat.
All is theirs. Bah, I spit again."

Jean looked slightly abashed. Then Ambrose chimed in.

"Out of the durned way, froggy," he said, swinging Pierre aside by the
shoulder, "you don't understand our ways, I guess. Ther' ain't no
slobberin' wi' white folk. Here you, Vic, hold out yer hand, man, and
shake wi' Jean. We're goin' to hev a time to-night, or I'll quit the
road for ever."

Victor shrugged. Then he picked up a pannikin and filled it with rum. He
held it out in his left hand towards Jean while he offered his right in
token