"I tell you speak English," said Nahnya calmly. "He is my friend as much as you."
Ralph's sore and humbled heart took what comfort it might from this.
"Well, it's easy," said Philippe, with a shrug of bravado. "One is fat, and one is scare', and one is crazy. There was no man in our boat but me!"
"Suppose you kill them," said Nahnya, "what we do after?"
He answered in Cree.
"You will stay here with me after?" she repeated.
Ralph's face flushed. "Nahnya——" he began hotly.
She ignored him. "There is no place here for you," she said to Philippe, cold and accusatory as a high priestess. "You are half white; you are bad like a white man and a red man together! I hear them talk of you around the country. You make yourself crazy with whiskey, and fight for nothing at all. Because you are strong you do what you like! You make trouble always where you go! You say you hate white men, but you can't stay away from them, because they have whiskey! You are not white, you are not red, you are nothing! There is no place for you here!"
All this was balm to Ralph's jealousy. He looked on the ground to keep from showing any triumph over the discomfited young bravo.
After debating with herself, Nahnya said to Philippe, pointing down the slope: "You go down there." To Ralph: "You wait here. I go by myself, and think what to do."