"Eh bien!" responded Étienne, knowing that he was challenged and the eyes of the whole yard were on him. "This fine crow he claims all Mackinac because he carries a black feather in his cap. There are black feathers in other brigades."
"But you never wore one in any brigade."
They dropped the skin and faced each other, feeling the fastenings of their belts. Old Robert Stuart slipped up a window in the office and grinned slyly out at the men surging towards that side of the yard. He would not usually permit a breach of discipline. But the winter had been so long!
"Myself I have no need of black feathers."
Étienne gave an insolent cast of the eye to the height where 'Tite Laboise stood.
Charle', magnificent of inches, scorned his less-developed antagonist.
"Eh, man Gurdon," softly called old Robert Stuart from his window, "set them to it, will ye? The lads will be jawing till the morn's morn."
This equivocal order had little effect on the ordained course of a voyageur's quarrel.
"These St. Martins without stomachs, how is a man to hit them?—pouf!" said Charle', and Etienne felt on his tender spot the cruel allusion to his brother Alexis, whose stomach had been made public property. He began to shed tears of wrath.
"I will take your scalp for that! As for the black feather, I trample it under my foot!"