"
"But where did you come from? How did you get here? Talk, man!"
"The master does not give me time. I came by land. It is a fine land.
They raise great squashes. Yes, and grain and vegetables! I have
never seen their like in France. If I had a farm here I could have
more than I could eat the whole year round."
I took time to curse. I had never heard my giant prate of agriculture;
the camp and the tap-room had been his haunts. This appeared to be a
method of working toward ill news. I lay back on my rushes and tried
to fix his eye.
"Pierre, answer. Where is Labarthe?"
"I told the master"--
"Answer!"
"I don't know."
"Did he escape with you?"
Pierre rubbed his sleeve across his face. "The master will not listen.
I do not know about Labarthe. I saw him at camp yesterday morning.
The master saw him at the same time. Then the master went to the
swamp, and I went, too, with my Indian. But I kept behind. By and by
I saw the canoe upside down, and the master's cloak floating on the
water; by that I knew that the master was drowned or had got away. I
thought he had gone to the Malhominis, and I wanted to go, too. So I
killed my Indian, and hid him in the grass.
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