etween him and Marie-Anne, and still
he heard no movement on the other side.

It was eight o'clock when one of the bateau men appeared at the door
and asked if he was ready. Quickly David joined him. He forgot his
taunts to Concombre Bateese, forgot the softly padded gloves in his
pack with which he had promised to pommel the half-breed into oblivion.
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. It was St.
Pierre. Scarcely had the prow of the canoe touched shore when David
leaped out and hurried to meet him. Behind St. Pierre came Bateese, the
half-breed. He was stripped to the waist and naked from the knees down.
His gorilla-like arms hung huge and loose at his sides, and the muscles
of his hulking body stood out like carven mahogany in the glisten of
the morning sun. He was like a grizzly, a human beast of monstrous
power, something to look at, to back away from, to fear.

Yet, David scarcely noticed him. He met St. Pierre, faced him, and
stopped--and he had gone swiftly to this meeting, so that the chief of
the Boulains was within earshot of all his men.

St. Pierre was smiling. He held out his hand as he had held it out once
before in the bateau cabin, and his big voice boomed out a greeting.

Carrigan did not answer, nor did he look at the extended hand. For an
instant the eyes of the two men met, and