But
there remained much writing and figuring to be gone over. It seemed as
if I had but closed my eyes when Labarthe touched me on the shoulder
and told me it was dawn.
And out in the dawn I found the woman. She had seen to it that the
whole camp was astir, and the fire was crackling and the kettle already
puffing steam. The morning was austere and gray-veiled, so that the
red blaze was like the cheer of home. We ate with laughter, and sleepy
birds scolded in the thickets. The woman sparkled with dainty
merriment that held my thanks at bay. It was only when she waved her
adieus at the beach that she dropped her foils.
"I shall pray for fair winds, monsieur," she called.
I looked back at her across the widening water. "Madame, can you hear
me? The wind I pray for will blow me back to you."
Metaphor aside, it was a favorable day and the breeze was with us. We
pushed up a tarpaulin on our paddles for a square sail, and covered the
distance to the west shore of La Baye in a few hours. Before night we
were lifting the rush mats that hung before the reed-thatched lodges of
the Winnebagoes.
And here for seven days I plied my trade. A man has many coats and all
may fit him.
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