"Fifty dollars, as soon as she has done the job."
The beady eyes kindled into animation, and the lips grew moist, but the Indian sat motionless as before, and waited in silence for what was to come.
"She will have to take the child, you know. It will not be hard for her to get it at this time of year, when the nurse is out of doors with it most of the time; on the steps, at the garden gate, or down the street. She can easily take it away from the nurse, a little slip of a French girl. A strong Indian woman could easily knock her down and run away with the child under her blanket. Only she must not be caught or the child brought back. You must send her to some reservation far away--up West, say--the farther West the better. I will pay as soon as she gets clear off. But you must not mix me up in the thing, mind that! That is why I offer to pay so much for the job."
"Much for job? Ouff. Le Père Théophile--the judge court--prison long time. Ouff!" and he shook his head slowly.
"You must send her where the curé's admonitions will not reach her. Send her to Brantford, or up the Ottawa; you know better than I do where. You can do a good deal with fifty dollars, you know, Paul."
"Ouff. And send 'way my squaw. Fidèle good squaw."
"Chut! Paul, you rascal! You have plenty more sweethearts you know; and they do not marry you so tight as us white men."
Paul grunted. "The Père Théophile very strict. Make squaw confess right up. Poor Fidèle go to prison--all found out. Paul sent to Isle aux Noix--you too, then."
"Stuff, man! No fear of your letting yourself be caught. Send your squaw away at once, before she has time to go near her priest."
"Police?"