scheme for humbling the braggart. He so worked on the other's good nature
that by the time they reached the settler's place, Macavoy was stretching
himself with a big pride. Seated at Wiley's table, with Hatchett and
others near, and drink going about, someone drew the giant on to talk,
and so deftly and with such apparent innocence did Pierre, by a word here
and a nod there, encourage him, that presently he roared at Wiley and
Hatchett:

"Ye shameless buccaneers that push your way into the tracks of honest
men, where the Company's been three hundred years by the will o' God--if
it wasn't for me, ye Jack Sheppards--"

Wiley and Hatchett both got to their feet with pretended rage, saying
he'd insulted them both, that he was all froth and brawn, and giving him
the lie.

Utterly taken aback, Macavoy could only stare, puffing in his beard, and
drawing in his legs, which had been spread out at angles. He looked from
Wiley to the impassive Pierre. "Buccaneers, you callus," Wiley went on;
"well, we'll have no more of that, or there'll be trouble at Fort
O'Angel."

"Ah, sure y'are only jokin'," said Macavoy, "for I love ye, ye
scoundrels. It's only me fun."

"For fun like that you'll pay, ruffian!" said Hatchett, bringing down his
fist on the table with a bang.

Macavoy stood up. He looked confounded, but there was nothing of the
coward in his face. "Oh, well," said he, "I'll be goin', for ye've got