Don't
squander lies. Plain dealing will be best for us both."
He was as changeable as June weather. Now it was his cue to look
pleading. "The Indians called me by a name that meant bitter waters,"
he said hesitatingly. "But my baptismal records say Starling. I am
telling you the truth, monsieur."
I wrote the name so that he could see. "You give me your word as a
gentleman," I said, "that your name is Benjamin Starling."
He stopped a moment. "Can a yeoman swear himself a gentleman?" he
asked. "I think not. I will be more explicit. I give you my oath as
a truth-loving person that my name is Starling."
I put up the paper. "Thank you," I said. "And now. Monsieur
Starling, we will say good-by. I am only a chance wayfarer here, and
leave in an hour. I cannot wish you success, since you are my foe, but
I can wish you a safe return to your own kind. I hope that we shall
meet again. When I am dealing with a foe that I respect, I prefer him
with his hands unbound. Good-day, monsieur."
But he was before me at the door. I saw that my news troubled him.
"You mean," he asked, "that you are leaving here for several days?"
I laid my hand on the latch. "No," I answered.
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