Bateese stared for a moment, and then his face broke into a wide grin.  “You lak ze fight, m’sieu?”

“Yes.  I love a scrap with a good man like you.”

One of Bateese’s huge hands crawled slowly over the table and engulfed David’s.  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.

“It will get well quickly if you will help me, Bateese.  Right now I want to get up.  I want to stretch my legs.  Was my head bad?”

“Non.  Ze bullet scrape ze ha’r off—­so—­so—­an’ turn ze brain seek.  I t’ink you be good fighting man in week!”

“And you will help me up?”

Bateese was a changed man.  Again David felt that mighty but gentle strength of his arms as he helped him to his feet.  He was a trifle unsteady for a moment.  Then, with the half-breed close at his side, ready to catch him if his legs gave way, he walked to one of the windows and looked out.  Across the river, fully half a mile away, he saw the glow of fires.

“Her camp?” he asked.

“Oui, m’sieu.”

“We have moved from the tar-sands?”

“Yes, two days down ze river.”

“Why are they not camping over here with us?”

Bateese gave a disgusted grunt.  “Becaus’ ma belle Jeanne have such leetle bird heart, m’sieu.  She say you mus’ not have noise near, lak ze talk an’ laugh an’ ze CHANSONS.  She say it disturb, an’ zat it rnak you worse wit’ ze fever.  She ees mak you lak de baby, Bateese say to her.  But she on’y laugh at zat an’ snap her leetle w’ite finger.  Wait St. Pierre come!  He brak yo’r head wit’ hees two fists.  I hope we have ze fight before then, m’sieu!”

“We’ll have it anyway, Bateese.  Where is St. Pierre, and when shall we see him?”

Bateese shrugged his shoulders.  “Mebby week, mebby more.  He long way off.”

“Is he an old man?”

Slowly Bateese turned David about until he was facing him.  “You ask not’ing more about St. Pierre,” he warned.  “No mans talk ’bout St. Pierre.  Only wan—­ma belle Jeanne.  You ask her, an’ she tell you shut up.  W’en you don’t shut up she call Bateese to brak your head.”

“You’re a—­a sort of all-round head-breaker, as I understand it,” grunted David, walking slowly back to his bed.  “Will you bring me my pack and clothes in the morning?  I want to shave and dress.”

Bateese was ahead of him, smoothing the pillows and straightening out the rumpled bed-clothes.  His huge hands were quick and capable as a woman’s, and David could not keep himself from chuckling at this feminine ingeniousness of the powerful half-breed.  Once in the crush of those gorilla-like arms that were working over his bed now, he thought, and it would be all over with the strongest man in “N” Division.  Bateese heard the chuckle and looked up.