"The girl Josette."

She looked from the one to the other of us, puzzled for a brief moment
at the odd situation. Then, as her eyes settled upon De Croix's
flushed and angry face, she laughed gaily, even as she daintily drew
aside her skirts to pass us by.

"Pish, Monsieur!" she cried, shaking her finger at him, "I doubt it
not. No, you need not deny it, for 't is but one of your old-time
tricks, as I knew them well at Montreal. 'T would be no more than
right were I even now to reward Master Wayland, for he hath truly won
it,--yet for that I will delay awhile."

And with a flash of her dark eyes that held us speechless, she was gone.

CHAPTER XVIII

GLIMPSES OF DANGER

If any trace of anger held place in my heart, it utterly vanished as I
noted the bewildered surprise with which De Croix gazed after
Mademoiselle's departing figure.

"_Sacre_!" he exclaimed presently, turning toward me, his face flushed,
and forgetful of all his well-practised graces. "'T was an unworthy
trick, Master Wayland, and one I am not likely to forget."

"'T was a moment ago," I answered, in great good-humor at his
discomfiture, "that you claimed wit was as important a factor as
fleetness of foot in the winning of a race. I did no more than
illustrate your theory, Monsieur."

The humor of it failed to touch him, and there was a direct menace in
his manner which caused me to fall back a step in the narrow passage
and front him warily.

"No boor of the woods shall laugh at me!" He exclaimed, his eyes
aflame with passion, "be the cause love or war. What mean all these
sly tricks of speech and action?--this hurried message to the ear of
Mademoiselle? By my faith, you did not even pause to wash the dust
from off your face before you sought her company. 'T is strange such
intimacy could spring up between you in so short a time! But mark you
this, Master Wayland, once and for all; I have not voyaged here from
Montreal to be balked in my plans by the interference of an uncouth
adventurer. I give you now fair warning that if you ever step again
between Toinette and me, naught but the decision of steel shall end our
quarrel."

That he was indeed in deadly earnest, and indulged in no vain threat, I
well knew; his passion was too strongly painted on his face. My own
temper rose in turn.

"I hear your words, Monsieur," I returned coldly, "and care no more for
them than for a child's idle boasting. There is naught between
M