"You beat him!" she cried. "He hates you--hates you--"

"Let him go!" called Pierrot in an agony of fear.

"Mon Dieu! I say let him go, or he will tear the life from you!"

"He hates you--hates you--hates you--" the Willow was repeating over
and over again into McTaggart's startled face. Then suddenly she turned
to her father. "No, he will not tear the life from me," she cried.
"See! It is Baree. Did I not tell you that? It is Baree! Is it not
proof that he defended me--"

"From me!" gasped McTaggart, his face darkening.

Pierrot advanced and laid a hand on McTaggart's arm. He was smiling.

"Let us leave them to fight it out between themselves, m'sieu," he
said. "They are two little firebrands, and we are not safe. If she is
bitten--"

He shrugged his shoulders. A great load had been lifted from them
suddenly. His voice was soft and persuasive. And now the anger had gone
out of the Willow's face. A coquettish uplift of her eyes caught
McTaggart, and she looked straight at him half smiling, as she spoke to
her father:

"I will join you soon, mon pere--you and M'sieu the Factor from Lac
Bain!"