no! made
for--"

He paused, smiled enigmatically, and dropped a bit of wood on the swift
current.

Brydon frowned, then said: "Well, made for what, Pierre?"

Pierre looked over Brydon's shoulder, towards a pretty cottage on the
hillside. "Made for homes like that, not this," he said, and he nodded
first towards the hillside, then to the Bridge House. (The cottage
belonged to the young doctor.) A growl like an animal's came from
Brydon, and he clinched the other's shoulder. Pierre glanced at the
hand, then at Brydon's face, and said sharply: "Take it away."

The hand dropped; but Brydon's face was hot, and his eyes were hard.

Pierre continued: "But then women are strange. What you expect they will
not--no. Riches?--it is nothing; houses like that on the hill, nothing.
They have whims. The hut is as good as the house, with the kitchen in
the open where the river welts and washes, and a man--the great man of
the world to them--to play the little game of life with.... Pshaw! you
are idle: move; you are thick in the head: think hard; you like the
girl: speak."

As he said this, there showed beneath them the front timbers of a small
crib of logs with a crew of two men, making for the rapids and the slide
below. Here was an adventure, for running the rapids with so slight a
craft and small a crew was smart work. Pierre, measuring the distance,
and with a "Look out, below!" swiftly let himself down by his arms as
far as he could, and then dropped to the timbers, as lightly as if it
were a matter of two feet instead of twelve. He waved a hand to Brydon,
and the crib shot on. Brydon sat eyeing it abstractedly till it ran
into the teeth of the rapids, the long oars of the three men rising and
falling to the monotonous cry. The sun set out the men and the craft
against the tall dark walls of the river in strong relief, and Brydon
was carried away from what Pierre had been saying. He had a solid
pleasure in watching, and he sat up with a call of delight when he saw
the crib drive at the slide. Just glancing the edge, she shot through
safely. His face blazed.

"A pretty sight!" said a voice behind him.

Without a word he swung round, and dropped, more heavily than Pierre,
beside Judith.

"It gets into our bones," he said. "Of course, though it ain't the same
to you," he added, looking down at her over his shoulder. "You don't
care for things so rough, mebbe?"

"I love the river," she said quietly.

"We're a rowdy lot