Pierre gave a great bellow of laughter.  “I will catch her,” he volunteered, and made a plunge in the direction of the lodge; but I caught him by the hood of his blanket coat, and let his own impetus choke him.

“Now look you, Pierre Boudin,” I said, “if you cross the door of that lodge on any errand,—­on any errand, mind you,—­you are no longer man of mine.  I mean that; you are no longer man of mine.  Now begone.  Gather the men, go to the canoes, and wait there till I come.  I may come soon; I may not come till morning.”

Pierre was still swelling.  “As the master wishes,” he said, with his eyes down; but I thought that he hesitated, and I called him to me.

“Pierre,” I said, “do you want to be sent back to Montreal, and have Francois Labarthe put in your place?”

The giant looked up to see how much I was in earnest, and, as I returned his look, all his bravado oozed away.  It does not seem quite the part of a man to cow a subordinate till he looks at you with the eyes of a whipped hound; but it was the only method to use with Pierre, and I went away satisfied.

I turned my steps toward the main camp of Ottawas, and there I idled for an hour.  The braves were good-humored with me, for I was a trader, not an officer, and their noses were keen for the brandy that I might have for barter.  So that I was free to watch them at their gambling, or dip my ladle in their kettles if I willed.  All this was good, but it went no further.  With all my artifices, I could not make my way into the great circle around the camp fire, and I grew sore with my incapacity, for I saw that Longuant, the most powerful chief of the Ottawas, was speaking.  I picked up a bone and threw it among the dogs with an oath for my own slowness.

The bone was greasy, and I took out my handkerchief, but before I could use it to wipe my hands, a young squaw pushed her way up to me, and offered her long black hair as a napkin.  She threw the oily length across my arm, and flattered me in fluent Ottawa.

Then I forgot myself.  The body frequently plays traitor in emergencies, and my repugnance conquered me so that I pushed her away before I had time to think.  Then I knew that I must make amends.

“The beauty of your hair is like the black ice with the moon on it,” I said in Ottawa.  “You must not soil it.”

She giggled with pleasure to hear me use her own tongue, and would have come close to me again, but I motioned her away.

“Stay there, and catch this,” I called, and I tossed her a small coin.

For all her squat figure and her broad, dull face, she was quick of action as a weasel.  She put her hands behind her, and, thrusting her head forward, caught the coin in her teeth.  It was well done; so well that I said “Brava,” and the braves around me gave approving grunts.

“Look at the stupid Frenchman!” I heard a brave say.  “For all his red coat, and his manners, he cannot catch as well as a squaw.”