Bill shouldered him aside, presenting shackled hands.
"Don't like the handcuffs, eh?" said Mr. Douglas cheerily, grooming his back with the bath towel.
"Called me an animal!" cried Bill, exasperated, raging at fresh indignities. Yet somehow this man, twice his size and many times as strong, this Justice of the Peace, this leader born to command, who looked down at him smiling, indulgent, did make him feel like one of the lower animals content to obey, to trust, to do his bidding.
"You and I," said Douglas, "are being watched. There's your late commanding officer watching from the poop, and no doubt His Holiness the Chaplain is peeping somewhere from behind a house. The handcuffs look impressive."
"I see," said Bill, quite humbled.
"Look up the valley," said Douglas. "See a point of standing forest yonder?"
The headland was black against the sunblaze.
"Behind that point," said Douglas, "le Grandeur will release you."
"Yes, sure!" broke in le Grandeur, "and ze fusil!"
"The gun," Douglas translated, "and everything your shipmates gave you is in that canoe. You are free. You can run away, and my voyageurs will not shoot. They have my orders."