II
"_Oui, madame_, thees is de place. One, two, t'ree island below Stuart
River. Thees is t'ree island."
As he spoke, Pierre Fontaine drove his pole against the bank and held the
stern of the boat against the current. This thrust the bow in, till a
nimble breed climbed ashore with the painter and made fast.
"One leel tam, madame, I go look see."
A chorus of dogs marked his disappearance over the edge of the bank, but
a minute later he was back again.
"_Oui, madame_, thees is de cabin. I mak investigation. No can find
mans at home. But him no go vaire far, vaire long, or him no leave dogs.
Him come queek, you bet!"
"Help me out, Pierre. I'm tired all over from the boat. You might have
made it softer, you know."
From a nest of furs amidships, Karen Sayther rose to her full height of
slender fairness. But if she looked lily-frail in her elemental
environment, she was belied by the grip she put upon Pierre's hand, by
the knotting of her woman's biceps as it took the weight of her body, by
the splendid effort of her limbs as they held her out from the
perpendicular bank while she made the ascent.
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