rn drew him to the open deck. The bateau was close to shore,
and the half-breed was working the long stern sweep as if the power of
a steam-engine was in his mighty arms. The York boats had shortened
their towline and were pulling at right angles within a few yards of a
gravelly beach. A few strokes more, and men who were bare to the knees
jumped out into shallow water and began tugging at the tow rope with
their hands. David looked at his watch. It was ten o'clock. Never in
his life had time passed so swiftly as that morning on the forward deck
of the barge. And now they were tying up, after a drop of six or eight
miles down the river, and he wondered how swiftly St. Pierre was
overtaking them with his raft.

He was filled with the desire to feel the soft crush of the earth under
his feet again, and not waiting for the long plank that Bateese was
already swinging from the scow to the shore, he made a leap that put
him on the sandy beach, St. Pierre's wife had given him this
permission, and he looked to see what effect his act had on the
half-breed. The face of Concombre Bateese was like sullen stone. Not a
sound came from his thick lips, but in his eyes was a deep and
dangerous fire as he looked at Carrigan. There was no need for words.
In them were suspicion, warning, the deadly threat of what would happen
if he did not come back when it was time to return. David nodded. He
understood. Even though St. Pierre's wife had faith in him, Bateese had
not. He passed between the men, and to a man their faces turned on him,
and in their quiet and watchful eyes he saw again that warning and
suspicion, the unspoken threat of what would happen if he forgot his
promise to Marie-Anne Boulain. Never, in a single outfit, had he seen
such splendid men. They were not a mongrel assortment of the lower
country. Slim, tall, clean-cut, sinewy--they were stock of the old
voyageurs of a hundred years ago, and all of them were young. The older
men had gone to St. Pierre. The reason for this dawned upon Carrigan.
Not one of these twelve but could beat him in a race through the
forest; not one that could not outrun him and cut him off though he had
hours the start!

Passing beyond them, he paused and looked back at the bateau. On the
forward deck stood Marie-Anne, and she, too, was looking at him now.
Even at that distance he saw that her face was quiet and troubled with
anxiety. She did not smile when he lifted his hat to her, but gave only