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Updated: April 30, 2025
His voice had risen, and suddenly there came a laugh from outside the door, and Concombre cut himself short and his mouth closed with a snap. It was Joe Clamart who had laughed. "I w'ip heem five time, an' now I w'ip heem seex!" hissed Bateese in an undertone. "Two time each year I w'ip zat gargon Joe Clamart so he understan' w'at good fightin' man ees. An' you will w'ip heem, eh, m'sieu? Oui?
"W'at you say, m'sieu?" "I said that Roger Audemard, Black Roger, the man I thought was St. Pierre Boulain " Carrigan said no more. What he had started to say was unimportant compared with the effect of Roger Audernard's name on Concombre Bateese.
In many a cabin and shack of the far hinterland he had taught white men and Indians how to use them, so that he might have the pleasure of feeling the thrill of them on his hands. And now here was Concombre Bateese inviting him on, waiting for him to get well! He went out and dangled the clumsy-looking mittens under the half-breed's nose. Bateese looked at them curiously. "Mitaines," he nodded.
Pierre, and St. Pierre would not refuse the wager when it was offered. He would not dare refuse. More than that, he would accept eagerly, strong in the faith that Bateese would whip him as he had whipped all other fighters who had come up against him along the Three Rivers. And when Marie-Anne knew what that wager was to be, she, too, would pray for the gods of chance to be with Concombre Bateese!
A dozen times he listened at the bulkhead between him and Marie-Anne, and still he heard no movement on the other side. It was eight o'clock when one of the bateau men appeared at the door and asked if he was ready. Quickly David joined him. He forgot his taunts to Concombre Bateese, forgot the softly padded gloves in his pack with which he had promised to pommel the half-breed into oblivion.
Then, suddenly he came to life, and leaped to David's side. "Diable! Tonnerre! You have not fight Concombre Bateese yet!" he howled. "Non, you have cheat me, you have lie, you have run lak cat from Concombre Bateese, ze stronges' man on all T'ree River! You are wan' gran' coward, wan poltroon, an' you 'fraid to fight ME, who ees greates' fightin' man in all dees countree! Sapristi!
He eyed David keenly and laughed in his deep chest, an unmistakable suggestiveness in the note of it. "You look seek, m'sieu," he said in an undertone, for David's ears alone, "You look ver' unhappy, an' pale lak leetle boy! Wat happen w'en you look t'rough ze glass up there, eh? Or ees it zat you grow frighten because ver' soon you stan' up an' fight Concombre Bateese? Eh, coq de bruyere?
An' I will breeng odder good fightin' mans for you to w'ip all w'at Concombre Bateese has w'ipped ten, dozen, forty an' you w'ip se gran' bunch, m'sieu. Eh, shall we mak' ze bargain?" "You are planning a pleasant time for me, Bateese," said Carrigan, "but I am afraid it will be impossible. You see, this captain of yours, Black Roger Audemard " "W'at!" Bateese jumped as if stung.
Joy shone on his face. "An' you promise give me zat fight, w'en you are strong?" "If I don't, I'll let you tie a stone around my neck and drop me into the river." "You are brave GARCON," cried the delighted Bateese. "Up an' down ze rivers ees no man w'at can whip Concombre Bateese!" Suddenly his face grew clouded. "But ze head, m'sieu?" he added anxiously.
"I was just thinking what a handsome chambermaid you make. You are so gentle, so nice to look at, so " "DIABLE!" exploded Bateese, dropping his dust cloth and bringing his huge hands down upon the table with a smash that almost wrecked the dishes. "You have eat, an' now you lissen. You have never hear' before of Concombre Bateese. An' zat ees me. See!
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