was an average barometer, and he was a husky and
fearless-looking chap, it was probable that neither St. Pierre nor
Bateese would demand another chance at him, and St. Pierre would pay
his wager.

He could see no one aboard the bateau when he climbed from the canoe.
Looking back, he saw that two other canoes had started from the
opposite shore. Then he went to his cabin door, opened it, and entered,
Scarcely had the door closed behind him when he stopped, staring toward
the window that opened on the river.

Standing full in the morning glow of it was Marie-Anne Boulain. She was
facing him. Her cheeks were flushed. Her red lips were parted. Her eyes
were aglow with a fire which she made no effort to hide from him. In
her hand she still held the binoculars he had left on the cabin table.
He guessed the truth. Through the glasses she had watched the whole
miserable fiasco.

He felt creeping over him a sickening shame, and his eyes fell slowly
from her to the table. What he saw there caught his breath in the
middle. It was the entire surgical outfit of Nepapinas, the old Indian
doctor. And there were basins of water, and white strips of linen ready
for use, and a pile of medicated cotton, and all sorts of odds and ends
that one might apply to ease the agonies of a dying man, And beyond the
table, huddled in so small a heap that he was almost hidden by it, was
Nepapinas himself, disappointment writ in his mummy-like face as his
beady eyes rested on David.

The evidence could not be mistaken. They had expected him to come back
more nearly dead than alive, and St. Pierre's wife had prepared for the
thing she had thought inevitable. Even his bed was nicely turned down,
its fresh white sheets inviting an occupant!

And David, looking at St. Pierre's wife again, felt his heart beating
hard in his breast at the look which was in her eyes. It was not the
scintillation of laughter, and the flame in her cheeks was not
embarrassment. She was not amused. The ludicrousness of her mislaid
plans had not struck her as they had struck him. She had placed the
binoculars on the table, and slowly she came to him. Her hands reached
out, and her fingers rested like the touch of velvet on his arms.

"It was splendid!" she said softly, "It was splendid!"

She was very near, her breast almost touching him, her hands creeping
up until the tips of her fingers rested on his shoulders, her scarlet
mouth so close he could feel the soft breath of