"Is that the word av a frind?" replied Macavoy, a hand fumbling in his
hair.

"Did you never run away when faced?" Pierre asked pitilessly.

"I never turned tail from a man, though, to be sure, it's been more talk
than fight up here: Fort Ste. Anne's been but a graveyard for fun these
years."

"Eh, well," persisted Pierre, "but did you never turn tail from a slip of
a woman?"

The thing was said idly. Macavoy gathered his beard in his mouth, chewing
it confusedly. "You've a keen tongue for a question," was his reply.
"What for should anny man run from a woman?"

"When the furniture flies, an' the woman knows more of the world in a day
than the man does in a year; and the man's a hulking bit of an
Irishman--bien, then things are so and so!"

Macavoy drew back dazed, his big legs trembling. "Come into the shade of
these maples," said Pierre, "for the sun has set you quaking a little,"
and he put out his hand to take Macavoy's arm.

The giant drew away from the hand, but walked on to the trees. His face
seemed to have grown older by years on the moment. "What's this y'are
sayin' to me?" he asked hoarsely. "What do you know av--av that woman?"

"Malahide is a long way off," said Pierre, "but when one travels why