“Oui, Monsieur, we had ver moche conversatione.”
“Can you remember what it was about?”
“Oh oui. ’Bout a’most all tings. I tell him de mos’ part of my histoire,—me fadder, me moder, broder, sister, an’ all dat, ’bout vich he seem not to care von buttin. Den ve convarsatione ’bout de fur-trade, an’ de—”
“Well well,” interrupted Redding, “but what was the last thing, just before he sent you off?”
“Ah let me zee. Oui—it was ’bout you’self. I tell him ’bout de property—de Lock Doo vat you was—”
“Le Rue,” exclaimed Redding, suddenly and very angrily, “you’re a consummate ass!”
“Vraiment,” said Le Rue, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, “I am so for remaining in de service of von goose!”
There was such good-humoured impudence in the man’s face as he said this that Redding laughed in spite of himself.
“Well,” he said, “your readiness to talk has at all events caused bad feeling between me and the McLeods. However, it don’t matter. Ship your oars again and give way with a will.”
The men obeyed, and as Redding sat buried in meditation at the helm he became convinced that McLeod’s anger had been aroused by his silence in regard to the purchase of Loch Dhu, for he himself had almost forgotten that the sudden entrance of the Indian had checked the words which were at the moment on his lips. When he thought of this, and of Flora, he resolved to pull back and explain matters, but when he thought of McLeod’s tone and manner he determined to proceed to the fort. Then, when he thought of Roderick’s precarious state, his mind again wavered, but, other thoughts and plans suggesting themselves, he finally decided on returning home.