impressions--impressions
roused by thought of Marie-Anne's slim, beautiful body crushed close in
the embrace of that laughing, powerful-lunged giant. Then the reaction
swept over him. St. Pierre was not a monster, even though his disturbed
mind unconsciously made an effort to conceive him as such. There were
gladness and laughter in his face. There was the contagion of joy and
good cheer in the voice that boomed over the water. Laughter and shouts
answered it from the shore. The rowers in Marie-Anne's York boat burst
into a wild and exultant snatch of song and made their oars fairly
crack. There came a solitary yell from Andre, the Broken Man, who was
close to the head of the raft now. And from the raft itself came a
slowly swelling volume of sound, the urge and voice and exultation of
red-blooded men a-thrill with the glory of this day and the wild
freedom of their world. The truth came to David. St. Pierre Boulain was
the beloved Big Brother of his people.

He waited, his muscles tense, his jaws set tight. Good medicine, he
called it again, a righteous sort of punishment set upon him for the
moral cowardice he had betrayed in falling down in worship at the feet
of another man's wife. The York boat was very close to the head of the
raft now. He saw Marie-Anne herself fling a rope to St. Pierre. Then
the boat swung alongside. In another moment St. Pierre had leaned over,
and Marie-Anne was with him on the raft. For a space everything else in
the world was obliterated for David. He saw St. Pierre's arms gather
the slim form into their embrace. He saw Marie-Anne's hands go up
fondly to the bearded face. And then--

Carrigan cut the picture there. He turned his shoulder to the raft and
snapped the binoculars in the case at his belt. Some one was coming in
his direction from the bateau. It was the riverman who had brought to
Marie-Anne the news of St. Pierre's arrival. David went down to meet
him. From the foot of the ridge he again turned his eyes in the
direction of the raft. St. Pierre and Marie-Anne were just about to
enter the little cabin built in the center of the drifting mass of
timber.

XV

It was easy for Carrigan to guess why the riverman had turned back for
him. Men were busy about the bateau, and Concombre Bateese stood in the
stern, a long pole in his hands, giving commands to the others. The
bateau was beginning to swing out into the stream when he leaped
aboard. A wide grin spread over the half