David Marsh cursed bitterly.
"That durn half-breed!" he cried. "Me no match for him! You wait and see, Maggie. I'll get square with him, one of these days."
"Dick ain't no half-breed," retorted the girl. "He's French and English—and that mixture don't made a breed. Got to have Injin blood, like me, to make a breed."
"Injin blood's better'n his mixture," said David. "Hell, yes! Dick Goodine's pure skunk. But I'll do him yet. You just watch, Maggie. Arm busted! Canoe busted and outfit sunk! He'll pay me for that."
"You think a heap o' yer money, Davy," said Maggie Leblanc.
"You go get the doctor," returned the young woodsman sullenly, "and leave my affairs alone. Money? Well, I guess I make it hard enough. You go 'long now, Maggie, like a good girl, and get Doctor Nash—or maybe I'll never have the use o' this arm again. It's stiffenin' up terrible quick. I'll make it worth yer while, Maggie. Five dollars! How'll five dollars do?"
"I'm goin'," answered Maggie. "But you keep yer money. I don't want yer five dollars. I'll fetch the doc, and I'll help you get square with that skunk Dick Goodine, all for nothin'. You bet! Lay still, now, and I'll light out for the settlement."
"I thought you was sweet on Dick Goodine; but you don't seem much that way now, Maggie. What's he bin doin' to you?" asked David.
"Yer mind yer own business, Davy Marsh," retorted the young woman, "and don't you give none o' yer cheek to me. I'm helpin' you, ain't I? Then mind yer manners!"
Then, with a toss of her handsome head, she hurried from the shack.