“The rest you have seen for yourself. She spoiled his plan a little, perhaps, by coming all the way once she had started. That wasn’t his fault; he didn’t want her to come here, especially after I picked up one of her combs that night we came to the camp, and threatened him if he didn’t send her home. She is wilful. And the only way he could have kept her from coming to the Sicannie would have been to go back himself.
“If our presence here has puzzled her you may be sure he has made satisfactory explanations. I am only biding my time. If I can hold him down and stand off the Hudson’s Bay till the furs come in, I can win out so far as the money end is concerned. And if I am to lose her, by God he’ll pay for it! She shall know the truth if I have to choke it out of him one word at a time.”
“It looks like a big contract,” I sympathized.
He made a gesture that might have meant anything, but did not reply. Presently he reached for his tobacco. When his cigarette was lighted he blew out the candle. By the glowing red tip I could follow his movements as he settled himself and drew the bedding about him. “Oh, Bob,” he addressed me after a long interval.
“What is it?” I answered.
“If that old hound and I should get mixed up, you keep out of it. Somebody will have to see that Jess gets out of this God-forsaken country. You’re woods-wise enough to manage that now.”
“Why, of course I’d do that,” I replied. It was a startling prospect he held forth. “But I hope nothing like that happens.”
“Anything might happen,” he returned. “We’re sitting on a powder-keg. I can’t guarantee that it won’t blow up. Montell is a bull-headed brute, and so am I. If he should throw a slug into me, I’d probably live long enough to return the favor.”
Then, after a pause: “I’ve been running on like an old woman. That rifle business to-night jarred me like the devil. Maybe a decent night’s rest will scatter these pessimistic ideas. Here goes, Robert; good-night.”
With which he turned his face to the wall, and did, I verily believe, go at once to sleep. And he was still asleep, his head resting on one doubled-up arm, when I got up and lighted the candle at seven in the morning. My slumbers had been beset by disturbing visions of violent deeds, the by-product of what I had seen and heard that evening; Barreau, by his cheerful aspect on arising, had banished his troubles while he slept.