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Smith, Alice Prescott

"Montlivet"

She pulled her
blanket over her head, and sat as stiffly as a badger above his hole.
I could not determine whether the news of the marriage was a surprise
or not. It did not matter. I lit my pipe and let her work it out.
"Are you coming?" I asked at last. "I must go back to the island now."
She rose and pulled her blanket around her. She was typically Indian
at the moment, unreadable and cold. But she nodded in acquiescence and
went to her canoe.
I found my own canoe and we paddled side by side. The sun was over the
horizon now and fish were jumping. I saw a great bass that must have
weighed five pounds spring his whole length out of the water for a fly.
A sportsman in France would have traveled leagues to have seen such a
fish, and here it lay ready for my hand. Perhaps after all there was
no need to search for reasons for the exultation that was possessing me.
A few moments brought us to the island, and we rounded the point and
came into the cove. The little camp was awake and startled by my
absence. Pierre was searching the horizon from under a red, hairy
hand, and Labarthe was looking to the priming of his arquebus. Only
the woman sat steadfast. All this I saw at a glance.


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