my word of honor that it isn't
because of my conscience!"

Ba'tiste was silent after that, walking slowly about the room, shaggy
head bent, hands clasped behind his back, studious, as though striving
to fathom what had been on the man's mind. As for Barry, he stared
disconsolately at vacancy, living again a thing which he had striven to
forget. It had been forced upon him, this partial admission of a cloud
in the past; the geniality, the utter honesty, the friendliness of the
old French-Canadian, the evident dislike for a man whom he, Barry, also
thoroughly distrusted, had lowered the younger man's guard. The tragic
story of Pierre and Julienne had furthered the merest chance
acquaintance into what seemed the beginning, at least, of closest
friendship. Houston had known Ba'tiste for only a matter of a few
hours,--yet it seemed months since he first had looked upon the funny
little blue cap and screaming red shirt of the Canadian; and it was
evident that Renaud had felt the same reaction. Barry Houston, to this
great, lonely man of the hills, looked like a son who was gone, a son
who had grown tall and straight and good to look upon a son upon whom
the old man had looked as a companion, and a chum for whom he had
searched in every battle-scarred area of a war-stricken nation, only to
find him,--too late. And with this viewpoint, there was no shamming
about the old man's expressions of friendship. More, he took Barry's
admission of a cloud in the past as a father would take it from a son;
he paced the floor minute after minute, head bowed, gray eyes half
closed, only to turn at last with an expression which told Barry
Houston that a friend was his for weal or woe, for fair weather or
foul, good or evil.

"Eet is enough!" came abruptly. "There is something you do not want to
tell. I like you--I not ask. You look like my Pierre--who could do no
wrong. So! _Bon_--good! Ba'teese is your frien'. You have trouble?
Ba'teese help."

"I've had plenty of that, in the last two years," came quietly. "I
think I've got plenty ahead of me. What do you know about Thayer?"

"He no good."

"Why?"

"Ba'teese don' know. On'y he have narrow eyes too close together. He
have a quirk to his mouth Ba'teese no like. He have habit nev' talkin'
about himself--he ask you question an' tell you nothing. He have
hatchet-face; Ba'teese no like a man with a hatchet-face. Beside, he
make love to Medaine!"

Barry laughed.

"