eathed one of the slim figures he read, "St. Pierre will
love this!" There were two exclamation points after that particular
notation!

David replaced the magazine on the table and looked toward the door.
No, St. Pierre would not hesitate to put him at the bottom of the
river, for her. Not if he, Dave Carrigan, made the solution of the
matter a necessity. There were times, he told himself, when it was
confoundedly embarrassing to force the letter of the law. And this was
one of them. He was not afraid of the river bottom. He was thinking
again of Marie-Anne.

The scraping of a canoe against the side of the bateau recalled him
suddenly to the moment at hand. He heard low voices, and one of them,
he knew, was St. Pierre's. For an interval the voices continued,
frequently so low that he could not distinguish them at all. For ten
minutes he waited impatiently. Then the door swung open, and St. Pierre
came in.

Slowly and coolly David rose to meet him, and at the same moment the
chief of the Boulains closed the door behind him. There was no greeting
in Carrigan's manner. He was the Law, waiting, unexcited, sure of
himself, impassive as a thing of steel. He was ready to fight. He
expected to fight. It only remained for St. Pierre to show what sort of
fight it was to be. And he was amazed at St. Pierre, without betraying
that amazement. In the vivid light that shot through the western
windows the chief of the Boulains stood looking at David. He wore a
gray flannel shirt open at the throat, and it was a splendid throat
David saw, and a splendid head above it, with its reddish beard and
hair. But what he saw chiefly were St. Pierre's eyes. They were the
sort of eyes he disliked to find in an enemy--a grayish, steely blue
that reflected sunlight like polished flint. But there was no flash of
battle-glow in them now. St. Pierre was neither excited nor in a bad
humor. Nor did Carrigan's attitude appear to disturb him in the least.
He was smiling; his eyes glowed with almost boyish curiosity as he
stared appraisingly at David--and then, slowly, a low chuckle of
laughter rose in his deep chest, and he advanced with an outstretched
hand.

"I am St. Pierre Boulain," he said. "I have heard a great deal about
you, Sergeant Carrigan. You have had an unfortunate time!"

Had the man advanced menacingly, David would have felt more
comfortable. It was disturbing to have this giant come to him with an
extended hand of apparent friendshi