“He brought a message from you to the effect that I was a prisoner, that I must make no attempt to escape, and that if I did try to escape, you had given your men instructions to kill me.”

She nodded, quite seriously.  “That is right, M’sieu David.”

His face flamed.  “Then I am a prisoner?  You threaten me with death?”

“I shall treat you very nicely if you make no attempt to escape, M’sieu David.  Isn’t that fair?”

“Fair!” he cried, choking back an explosion that would have vented itself on a man.  “Don’t you realize what has happened?  Don’t you know that according to every law of God and man I should arrest you and give you over to the Law?  Is it possible that you don’t comprehend my own duty?  What I must do?”

If he had noticed, he would have seen that there was no longer the flush of color in her cheeks.  But her eyes, looking straight at him, were tranquil and unexcited.  She nodded.

“That is why you must remain a prisoner, M’sieu David, It is because I do realize, I shall not tell you why that happened behind the rock, and if you ask me, I shall refuse to talk to you.  If I let you go now, you would probably have me arrested and put in jail.  So I must keep you until St. Pierre comes.  I don’t know what to do—­except to keep you, and not let you escape until then.  What would you do?”

The question was so honest, so like a question that might have been asked by a puzzled child, that his argument for the Law was struck dead.  He stared into the pale face, the beautiful, waiting eyes, saw the pathetic intertwining of her slim fingers, and suddenly he was grinning in that big, honest way which made people love Dave Carrigan.

“You’re—­doing—­absolutely—­right,” he said.

A swift change came in her face.  Her cheeks flushed.  Her eyes filled with a sudden glow that made the little violet-freckles in them dance like tiny flecks of gold.

“From your point of view you are right,” he repeated, “and I shall make no attempt to escape until I have talked with St. Pierre.  But I can’t quite see—­just now—­how he is going to help the situation.”

“He will,” she assured him confidently.

“You seem to have an unlimited faith in St. Pierre,” he replied a little grimly.

“Yes, M’sieu David.  He is the most wonderful man in the world.  And he will know what to do.”

David shrugged his shoulders.  “Perhaps, in some nice, quiet place, he will follow the advice Bateese gave you—­tie a stone round my neck and sink me to the bottom of the river.”

“Perhaps.  But I don’t think he will do that I should object to it.”

“Oh, you would!”

“Yes.  St. Pierre is big and strong, afraid of nothing in the world, but he will do anything for me.  I don’t think he would kill you if I asked him not to.”  She turned to resume her task of cleaning up the breakfast things.