built with the strength of a giant. His arms were long. His
shoulders were stooped. His head was like the head of a stone gargoyle
come to life. Wide-eyed, heavy-lipped, with the high cheek-bones of an
Indian and uncut black hair bound with the knotted red MOUCHOIR, he
looked more than ever like a pirate and a cutthroat to David. Such a
man, he thought, might make play out of the business of murder. And
yet, in spite of his ugliness, David felt again the mysterious
inclination to like the man.

Bateese grinned. It was a huge grin, for his mouth was big. "You ver'
lucky fellow," he announced. "You sleep lak that in nice sof' bed an'
not back on san'-bar, dead lak ze feesh I bring you, m'sieu. That ees
wan beeg mistake. Bateese say, 'Tie ze stone roun' hees neck an' mak'
heem wan ANGE DE MER. Chuck heem in ze river, MA BELLE Jeanne!' An' she
say no, mak heem well, an' feed heem feesh. So I bring ze feesh which
she promise, an' when you have eat, I tell you somet'ing!"

He returned to the door and brought back with him a wicker basket. Then
he drew up the table beside Carrigan and proceeded to lay out before
him the boiled fish which St. Pierre's wife had promised him. With it
was bread and an earthen pot of hot tea.

"She say that ees all you have because of ze fever. Bateese say, 'Stuff
heem wit' much so that he die queek!'"

"You want to see me dead. Is that it, Bateese?"

"OUI. You mak' wan ver' good dead man, m'sieu!" Bateese was no longer
grinning. He stood back and pointed at the food. "You eat--queek. An'
when you have finish' I tell you somet'ing!"

Now that he saw the luscious bit of whitefish before him, Carrigan was
possessed of the hungering emptiness of three days and nights. As he
ate, he observed that Bateese was performing curious duties. He
straightened a couple of rugs, ran fresh water into the flower vases,
picked up half a dozen scattered magazines, and then, to David's
increasing interest, produced a dust-cloth from somewhere and began to
dust. David finished his fish, the one slice of bread, and his cup of
tea. He felt tremendously good. The hot tea was like a trickle of new
life through every vein in his body, and he had the desire to get up
and try out his legs. Suddenly Bateese discovered that his patient was
laughing at him.

"QUE DIABLE!" he demanded, coming up ferociously with the cloth in his
great hand. "You see somet'ing ver' fonny, m'sieu?"

"No, nothing funny, Bateese," grinned C