What was he after? I eyed him over my pipe bowl, but said nothing. I was minded to tell him to clean the whitefish for our supper, but reflected in time that he would undoubtedly do it badly, so I spoke to Francois instead. But when I would have gone away the Englishman followed. He clapped me lightly on the shoulder, a familiarity he had not ventured before, and he put his head on one side with a little bantam swagger.
“If I am an enemy, I am an enemy,” he bowed. “Yet one question, please, and I swear in the name of our joint father Noah that I ask it with the fairest motives in mind. Tell me something of what we are going to do. Is today a sample?”
I could not hold my ill-temper. He must have led a psalm-singing youth that every attempt at rakishness should make him as piquant as a figure at a masque.
“Yes,” I replied. “To-day is a sample except that we have been indolent this afternoon. I made this a semi-holiday as a sop to the men for the added burden I have laid on them. I wish to do some exploring along the coast here, and we shall have to spend some time hunting. If you show yourself capable I shall leave you in charge of the camp while we are away.”
This time he bowed gravely. “Thank you, monsieur. I have not been blind to the way you have spared me hardship, but when I said that I would do whatever you would teach me, I meant it. I think that I shall make a good woodsman in time.”
But I laughed. “You wash yourself too much ever to make a good woodsman,” I told him, and I set him to measuring the meal for our supper, for indeed his hands were well kept, and it was pleasant to see him handle the food.
CHAPTER X
I WAKE A SLEEPER
What enchantment came upon the weather for the next week I do not know. May is often somewhat sour of visage, but now she smiled from dawn till starlight. We paddled and hunted and slept, well fed and fire-warmed. It was more like junketing than business, and we were as amiable as fat-bellied puppies. Even the Englishman looked content. We left him in camp when we went to hunt, and on our return he had a boiling pot and hot coals ready for our venison. I saw that he had won favor with the men. Yet he kept aloof from all of us, as he had promised.
This had gone on for a week, when one day, after we had placed the Englishman on guard and were tramping back into the timber to see what our eyes and muskets could find, Pierre pointed to a bent tree. “It looks like a cow’s back,” he ruminated. “Trees are queer. Today, where we made camp, I saw a tree that looked like a Huron with his topknot.”
I stopped. “Where?”
“I told the master. Near the camp.”
“You think it was a tree?”
Pierre shuffled. “There are no Hurons here. This is the Pottawatamie country. But I have thought about it all day. It was a queer tree. Shall I go back and see?”