ting what he had heard. "You looked through the window--and saw--"

David nodded. He could not cover the sneering poison in his voice, his
contempt for the man who stood before him.

"Yes, I looked through the window. And I saw you, and the lowest woman
on the Three Rivers--the sister of a man I helped to hang, I--"

"STOP!"

St. Pierre's voice broke out of him like the sudden crash of thunder.
He came a step nearer, his face livid, his eyes shooting flame. With a
mighty effort he controlled himself again. And then, as if he saw
something which David could not see, he tried to smile, and in that
same instant David caught a grin cutting a great slash across the face
of Concombre Bateese. The change that came over St. Pierre now was
swift as sunlight coming out from shadowing cloud. A rumble grew in his
great chest. It broke in a low note of laughter from his lips, and he
faced the bateau across the river.

"M'sieu, you are sorry for HER. Is that it? You would fight--"

"For the cleanest, finest little girl who ever lived--your wife!"

"It is funny," said St. Pierre, as if speaking to himself, and still
looking at the bateau. "Yes, it is very funny, ma belle Marie-Anne! He
has told you he loves you, and he has kissed your hair and held you in
his arms--yet he wants to fight me because he thinks I am steeped in
sin, and to make me fight in place of Bateese he has called my Carmin a
low woman! So what else can I do? I must fight. I must whip him until
he can not walk. And then I will send him back for you to nurse,
cherie, and for that blessing I think he will willingly take my
punishment! Is it not so, m'sieu?"

He was smiling and no longer excited when he turned to David.

"M'sieu, I will fight you. And the wagers shall stand. And in this hour
let us be honest, like men, and make confession. You love ma belle
Jeanne--Marie-Anne? Is it not so? And I--I love my Carmin, whose
brother you hanged, as I love no other woman in the world. Now, if you
will have it so, let us fight!"

He began stripping off his shirt, and with a bellow in his throat
Concombre Bateese slouched away like a beaten gorilla to explain to St.
Pierre's people the change in the plan of battle. And as that news
spread like fire in the fir-tops, there came but a single cry in
response--shrill and terrible--and that was from the throat of Andre,
the Broken Man.

XXI

As Carrigan stripped off his shirt, he knew that at least in one way he