He stepped into the canoe and pushed her off into the eddy just above the falls by which the Big Horn plunged into the Goat.
“Bo' voyage, M'sieu le Docteur!” sang out Duprez. “You cache hup de preechere. He pass on de riviere las' night.”
“What? Who?”
“De preechere, Boyle. He's pass on wid canoe las' night. He's camp on de Beeg Fall, s'pose.”
Barney held his canoe steady for a moment. “Went up last night, did he?”
“Oui. Tom Martin on de Beeg Horn camp he's go ver' seeck. He send for M'sieu Boyle.”
“Did he go up alone?”
“Oui. He's not want nobody. Non. He's good man on de canoe.”
It was an awkward situation. There was a very good chance that he should fall in with his brother somewhere on the trip, and that, at all costs, he was determined to avoid. For a minute or more he sat holding his canoe, calculating time and distances. At length he came to a resolve. He must visit the camp on the Big Horn, and he trusted his own ingenuity to avoid the meeting he dreaded.
“All right, Duprez! bon jour.”