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Sam watched it doubtfully. He was ready to welcome relief in any form from his hateful situation, but was this relief? "How do you expect to sail to the river when they're coming from there?" he asked. "I wait till come close," she replied eagerly. "Then go round ot'er side of island. They never catch me wit' my sail. Johnny Gagnon's boat got no sail." Her eagerness made him suspicious.
She made Sam sit down, in a patch of goodly sunshine, and in a jiffy had a crackling fire of dry willow blazing before him. He took off his coat and hung it to dry. "Tak' off your shirt, too," she said. "Dry quicker." Sam shook his head, blushing. "Go on," she said coolly. "I guess you got ot'er shirt on, too." The blue flannel shirt joined the coat beside the fire.
"Don' look at me lak that," she faltered. "How do I know what to believe?" Sam said harshly. "You say so many things." "I jus' foolin' 'bout those ot'er men," she said. "I not marry one of them. I sooner jump in the lak'." A secret spring of gladness spurted up in Sam's breast. "Do you mean that?" he demanded. "I mean it," she replied.
The old man smiled. "You right," he whispered. "I trick you. Trick both. I want you mak' up before I go." Bela and Sam both turned their heads in keen discomfort. "Never mind that now," said Bela. "Yes," he said. "So foolish! Both! You are crazy 'bout each ot'er. I know it. W'at for you got quarrel and speak bad words? W'at for you run away? W'at for you say goin' wit' 'not'er man, you?
"If he is kill for cause of me I get a bad name around. A girl can't have no bad name." They laughed with light scorn. "You're done for already," Joe said. "Nobody knows him," said Jack. "He'll never be missed. We'll take good care he ain't found, neither." "The police will know," insisted Bela. "They can smell blood. Bam-by maybe you mad at each ot'er. One will tell." This was a shrewd shot.
"Macfarlane the policeman is too fat; the doctor is too old, his hair is white; the parson is a little, scary man. All are afraid of her; her proud eye mak' a man feel weak inside. There are no ot'er white men there. She is a woman. She mus' have a master. There is no man in the country strong enough for that!" There was a brief silence in the cabin while Poly relighted his cigar.
"He is my friend," she said. "I hear those ot'er men say they hate him. Say they goin' kill him and nobody know. I t'ink if I tell Sam that, he jus' laugh. So I got tak' him away myself to save him." The white spectators leaned forward, mystified and breathlessly attentive. Here was a brand-new story which did not fit any of the time-honoured court-room situations. The bishop looked sad.
Sam awaited her, raging with that intolerable bitterness that a tender and obstinate man feels at the sight of a woman's tears. She offered him the little package of food, and a blanket as well. "Tak' my ot'er blanket," she said humbly. "I can get more." He impatiently shook his head, refusing to meet the lovely, imploring eyes. "Here," he said, offering the pocket-knife. "For the food."
But to be t'e first is fame and all t'e ot'er t'ings I promise you. Now do you trust me? Now do you beliefe me? Vill you make t'e experiment? I haf let me tell you! I haf discofered " Cautiously Prof. Darmstetter looked about the room. Then he leaned toward me again and added in a hoarse whisper: "I haf discofered t'e Bacillus of Beauty." The Bacillus of Beauty! Was the poor man insane?
If ot'er men think you want the cook, they kill him maybe. White men sometam crazy lak that. You mus' all same mak' friends wit' all. Ask moch question. Watch them well. When you know their ways, you know what to do. Bam-by maybe you get your man to leave the ot'ers. Then it is easy." "I do all you tell me," promised Bela. "Come home to-morrow night," he said. She rebelled at this. "No.
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