“What do you want?” he said, moving slowly and sullenly toward the trapper.
Millicent had left the old man, and was talking with Bentley by the river side.
“Come hyar,” repeated Ben, in an authoritative tone of voice.
Jules paused irresolutely and looked the speaker over from head to foot.
“Come hyar, I say,” repeated Ben. “Hev a man got to w’ar his tongue out a-tellin’ of ye to move?”
Jules followed him reluctantly aside, and they stood together near the wall of the hut, not far from Jan, who was intently engaged in drying his clothing. The Frenchman did not like the expression of the old trapper’s face. It showed a determination to understand the matter.
“Ye hang back like a twelve-year-old gal, ye do,” said the old trapper. “What’s the matter with ye, anyhow? I want ter ask ye a question or two. I asked ye to foller me when Jan got adrift. Why didn’t ye?”
“Where would you have been if the tree-top had not lain in the water? Battered to pieces on the rocks below the fall. I wasn’t going to try it, you’d better believe. I warned you to come back.”
“That’s all right,” said Ben. “I ain’t hard-hearted enough to force a man to do any thing he’s afraid of. But look yer. Do you see this withe? Who cut it?”
He held up to view the severed strand, showing where it had been cut. So sudden was the question, and so unexpected, that the Frenchman stammered and turned deadly pale. There could be no doubt as to his guilt.