The Spell of the White Sturgeon

by Jim Kjelgaard

  CHAPTER THREE

  _ON THE BEACH_

  Ramsay felt an instant tension and a bristling anger, and he knew nowthat he should have connected two incidents. The man who had written tohim and offered him a job in the Three Points tannery had signed hisname 'Devlin Chadbourne.' Devlin Chadbourne--Devil Chad--and Ramsay tooka backward step. Never before had he met a man so capable of arousing inhim a cordial dislike that was almost an urge to start fightingimmediately.

  "Where's the _Holter_?" Devil Chad demanded.

  "I sent her back to Milwaukee after Captain Schultz let me off here,"Ramsay said sarcastically.

  "Don't get smart with me, boy." Devil Chad glowered. "You was on the_Holter_ when she sailed."

  "Where were you?" Ramsay demanded.

  "I'll ask the questions here!" Devil Chad's thick lips curled in an uglyoblong. "Where's the _Holter_?"

  "At the bottom of Lake Michigan!" Ramsay flared. "Captain Schultz andone of your deck hands are lying drowned on the beach! I don't knowwhere the others are."

  Devil Chad's glass balls of eyes glinted. His face twisted into ahorrible glare, and every inch of his big frame seemed to shrink andswell with the rage that consumed him. "You mean to tell me," hedemanded furiously, "that all them hides was lost?"

  "Men were lost," Ramsay pointed out.

  "You mean to tell me," Devil Chad repeated, as though he had not heardRamsay, "that all them hides was lost?"

  "Swim out and get 'em," Ramsay invited. "I'll show you the place where Ilanded, and the _Holter_ can't be more than a couple of miles out in thelake."

  "What did Schultz do?" Devil Chad demanded.

  "Drowned."

  "You're pretty flip, boy," Devil Chad warned, "an' I don't put up withflip people. You tell me what happened."

  "Your greasy tub was carrying one third more than ever should have beenput on her, her equipment was no good, we ran into a storm and theengines quit."

  "All them hides lost." Devil Chad was overwhelmed by this personaltragedy and could think of nothing else. "Couldn't you of donesomethin'?"

  "It wasn't my ship and they weren't my hides. What are you going to dofor the families of the men who were lost?"

  "Why should I do anything? They knew when they signed on that they wasrunnin' risks." Devil Chad turned his unreadable eyes squarely onRamsay. "What do you want here?"

  "Nothing."

  "Ain't you the boy who wrote me from New York, an' asked me for a job?"

  The man at the vat continued working and others stayed at their tasks,but Ramsay was aware of a rippling under-current. There was anuneasiness among the men, and a fear; and in spite of the fact that theykept busy they turned covert eyes on Ramsay and Devil Chad. The boy felta flashing anger. Who was this man, and what was he, that so many otherscould live in almost craven fear of him?

  "If you are," Devil Chad continued, still holding Ramsay in the cage ofhis eyes, "you can have the job but I hold back twenty-five cents a dayuntil them hides are paid for."

  "Take your job!" Ramsay exploded, "and go plumb to the bottom of thelake with it!"

  "I warned you, boy," Devil Chad was talking softly now. "I warned you. Idon't put up with flip people, an' now I'm goin' to teach you the lessonthat I should of given you on the _Holter_."

  "Why didn't you sail on the _Holter_?" Ramsay demanded.

  Devil Chad made no answer. He was in a half-crouch, his huge head bentto his chest and his fists knotted so tightly that the knuckles werewhitened. His shaggy hair tumbled forward on his forehead, and his eyesstill held no expression.

  Ramsay raised his voice so all in the building could hear. "You filthypup! You lily-livered slug! You knew the _Holter_ was going to thebottom some day! Even your deck hand knew it! You sent other men out todie, but didn't risk yourself! You haven't got enough money to hire meto work for you!"

  Devil Chad was inching forward, his head still bent; and when he hadadvanced a foot, he sprang. It was the rush of a bull, but not acumbersome bull. He flung out both arms, intending to crush Ramsay tohis chest and break his ribs. It was the only way Devil Chad knew how tofight, but the boy knew other tricks.

  When the bigger, heavier man launched his charge, Ramsay stood still. Hesaw those massive stretched arms, and knew their purpose, but he did notmove until Devil Chad flung them out for his crushing embrace. Then, andonly then, did Ramsay act.

  He flitted aside, balancing himself on the balls of his feet andwhirling even as he evaded the other's lunge. Like a snapping whip hisclenched right fist flicked in to deliver a stinging blow to the side ofhis enemy's head. But the blow did little except spin Devil Chad aroundand arouse a mighty bellow in the depths of his enormous chest.

  Ramsay remained poised, alert for the next charge, and an almost grimsatisfaction drove other thoughts from his mind. He had not wanted thisfight and had not forced it, but within him there was a curious feelingthat it was fore-ordained, and now that it was here, he relished it.Devil Chad was not a man. He was an animal who thought as an animalthinks. Other men, other human beings, had lost their lives in hisoverloaded, unseaworthy ship, and all this brute could think of was thefact that he had lost his cargo.

  Devil Chad's eyes, even in the heat of battle, remained opaque andstrangely without expression. It was only his face, like a rubber maskexpertly molded to form an expression of rage, that betrayed his fury.He swung heavily, running forward even as he launched his blow, andRamsay ducked beneath it. He came up to land a hard left and a right onDevil Chad's jaw.

  He might as well have struck a granite boulder. Devil Chad did not evenflinch and the boy knew a moment's uncertainty. His enemy was a bull,but bulls were felled with pole-axes, not with fists. Ramsay backedlightly away.

  All about now, knowing that Devil Chad was engrossed in the fight andhad no time for them, men had openly stopped work and were staring atthe battlers. On the faces of some was written incredulity. Some lookedon with delighted interest, and an expectant smile lighted the swarthyfeatures of a little Frenchman who had stopped moving cattle hides towatch Ramsay weave away from Devil Chad. There was no man here who, insome silent way, did not cheer the boy on, but there were none whoexpected him to win. All knew their master.

  Devil Chad rushed again, swinging his fists like pistons as he did so,and again Ramsay side-stepped. He landed a fierce blow squarely on theother's nose and was gratified to see a crimson stream of blood spoutforth to mingle darkly with his antagonist's black beard and mustache. Acold uncertainty rose within Ramsay.

  He had fought before, many times, and he had defeated his opponents andhad been defeated, but never before had he fought a man just like thisone. Devil Chad, apparently, was able to absorb an endless amount ofpunishment with no effect whatever on himself. He was as tough as one ofthe trees that grew on the outskirts of Three Points.

  Ramsay risked a fleeting backward glance to see where he was going, andedged away from the wall. He was breathing hard because of thetremendous physical effort he had exerted, but he was far from exhaustedand he knew that, as long as he could keep the battle in the open, hecould avoid the other's charges. But the certainty that he could not winthis battle solidified. It seemed possible to pound Devil Chad all daylong without hurting him at all.

  "Kill him!" an excited man shouted.

  Devil Chad paused just long enough to locate and identify this rashemployee who dared encourage his enemy, and Ramsay felt a nausea in thepit of his stomach. When the battle ended, no matter who won, at leastone man would have some explaining to do and probably a beating to take.The boy kept his eyes on Devil Chad, anticipating the other's next move.

  Then he tripped over an unseen and unsuspected block of wood and fellbackward.

  Even as he fell he tried to pick himself up and scoot out of the way.But a bludgeon, the toe of Devil Chad's heavy boot, collided soddenlywith his ribs and a sickening pain shot through his entire body. Heturned, snatching furiously at the boot as it was raised again and stilltrying to wriggle away. His arm
flipped convulsively as Devil Chadkicked him squarely on the wrist, and he felt a creeping numbness thatbegan there and spread to his shoulder.

  He rolled to escape his tormentor, rolled again, and struggled to hishands and knees. Vaguely, as though he were viewing it in some fantasticdream, he saw the big black boot flying at his head. The boot was a hugething and so clearly-outlined that Ramsay saw every tiny wrinkle in it.He was aware of the stitching where the ponderous sole joined the upperleather, and he knew that he must get away. But that was a vague andmisty thought, one he seemed unable to carry farther. A mighty rageflared within him.

  No more than a split second elapsed before the boot struck, but itseemed like hours. Ramsay was aware of the fact that his two silverdollars, his last money, rolled out of his pockets and across thetannery's floor. A thousand colored lights danced in his head, and thenhe was back on the lake.

  He had loved the lake, he remembered, and there was somethingwonderfully cool and refreshing about returning to it. A small boat witha crazy Dutch fisherman at her tiller danced out of the lake's graystretches and sported gracefully before him. On top of the mast was atame sea gull that clicked his mandibles and fluttered his wings. Ramsayeven saw the boat's name written in fine script across her bows. She wasthe _Spray_.

  The _Spray_ hove to very close to Ramsay, and her skipper looked at him.He was a tall man, very powerful, and he was blond and easily laughing.There was no grimness about him, only grace and light spirit. Severalmen had gone sailing on a raft made of cattle hides, he told Ramsay, andthey were in great trouble out on the lake. Did Ramsay care to go withhim and help bring the unfortunates safely back? The sea gull, ofcourse, would help too.

  When Ramsay pretended not to hear, the crazy Dutch fisherman obliginglyrepeated his information. Again Ramsay pretended not to hear; whereuponthe Dutch fisherman caught up a wooden bucket, dipped it into the lakeand showered him with ice-cold water. He held the bucket waist-high, asthough wondering whether more water was necessary, and the twinkleremained in his eyes and the laugh on his lips. It was impossible to beangry with him. Laughing back, Ramsay agreed to go help the foolish menwho had sailed away on the cattle hides.

  Then he awakened, to find a woman bathing his face with cold water.

  For a moment she was a distorted picture, a hazy vision that advancedtoward him and retreated far away. Again Ramsay almost lost himself inthe dim world into which Devil Chad's boots had kicked him. The coldcloth on his face brought him back, and he opened his eyes to see thewoman very clearly.

  She was small, with a worn face, so weary from endless toil that theskin was drawn tightly over it. But her eyes were the brownest, thesoftest and the gentlest Ramsay had ever seen. Black hair was combedsmoothly back on her head and caught in a knot at the base of her neck.Again she laid the cold cloth on his face, and the boy closed his eyesat the luxury of such a thing. Then he spoke, "Where am I?"

  "_Sh-h._ Don't try to talk, M'sieu."

  The woman, unmistakably French, rose and went into another room. Ramsaylooked about him.

  The room in which he lay was walled with rough, unplaned boards, and theceiling was made of the same material. Only the floor, scrubbed socarefully that it glowed like a polished diamond, was of smooth boards.Light was admitted by a single small pane of glass, and the lightreflected on a crucifix that hung on the far wall. There were a fewpictures, yellow with age, a table over which a deer skin was gracefullydraped, and a candle-holder with a half-burned candle. Everything wasneat and spotlessly clean.

  The woman came back bearing a hollowed-out gourd. She passed an armaround Ramsay's shoulders--despite her small size she was surprisinglystrong--and assisted him to a half-sitting position. She held the gourdto his lips.

  Ramsay drank deeply, and fell back sputtering. The gourd waspartly-filled with cold water and partly with a whisky, so strong andviolent that it burned his mouth and lips. He lay blinking, while tearswelled in his eyes and flowed down his cheeks. The whisky, doubtlesshomemade, was strong enough to choke a horse. But, after a half-minute,it made itself felt. A warm glow spread from the roots of Ramsay's hairto the tips of his toes. Some of his many aches and pains lessened.

  "More?" the woman inquired softly.

  "Uh ... No--no thank you."

  She put the gourd on the table and came over to lay a hand on hisforehead. It was a calloused and work-hardened hand, but so gentle wasshe that her caress was scarcely a feather's touch. Ramsay smiled histhanks.

  "How did I get here?" he asked again.

  "My man, Pierre LeDou, he brought you. But now you must rest, M'sieu,and try to sleep. Badly have you been hurt."

  The woman drew an exquisite, hand-sewn lace curtain, an incongruousthing in these rough surroundings, over the window, and semi-gloomreigned in the room. She tiptoed out, closing the door behind her, andRamsay was left alone with his thoughts.

  That mighty rage mounted within him again. He had been fighting withDevil Chad, he remembered, and not doing badly until he fell over someunseen object. Then he had been kicked into--into this. ExperimentallyRamsay tried to move his legs, and found that he could do so. Heclenched and unclenched his fists, and there in the half-light of anunknown room, in a stranger's house, he made a solemn vow. One day, nomatter what else happened, he and Devil Chad would meet again. DevilChad would pay, in full, for every twinge Ramsay suffered. In thatmoment Ramsay knew that he was not afraid.

  His burning anger became tempered with pleasant wonder. This was a harshland, but there was room for tenderness. He was a stranger and had beenin Three Points only long enough to get himself kicked intoinsensibility, but there were those in Three Points who knew compassionand friendship. Otherwise, he would not now be lying in some unknownman's house and being ministered to by that man's wife. Pierre--Ramsaystrove to recall the last name and could not. He fell into a quietslumber.

  The next time he awakened, the candle on his table was burning and hishost--vaguely Ramsay remembered seeing him move hides about thetannery--was standing near. Like his wife, he was small and gentle, witha manner that belied the fierce little black mustache clinging to hisupper lip. He was too small and gentle, Ramsay thought, ever to fitinto a town such as Three Points. But certainly he was kind and good. Hesmiled, revealing flashing white teeth, and when he did Ramsayremembered the name, Pierre LeDou.

  "How do you feel?" he asked briskly.

  "Better." Ramsay grinned.

  "He beat you," Pierre LeDou said. "_Sacre!_ But he beat you!" The littleman's eyes roved about the room, as though seeking the solution to aproblem which he must solve, and Ramsay knew that he, too, hated DevilChad. "He kicked you!" Pierre LeDou said.

  "I know, and some day I'll pay him back for that."

  Interest brightened in the little Frenchman's eyes. "You think so,M'sieu--M'sieu ..."

  "Cartou," Ramsay said. "Ramsay Cartou. And I will not kill anybodyunless I have to. But one day this Devil Chad will pay, ten times over,for everything he did to me."

  "He is very hard man." Pierre LeDou sighed.

  "So am I!" Ramsay gritted, and again anger rose within him. "Why shouldso many people tremble in their boots when he comes around?"

  Pierre LeDou shrugged eloquently. "The job. A man has to have the job."

  "I see. And Devil Chad controls 'the job'?"

  "Not all," Pierre LeDou explained. "He does not walk so freely where thefishermen and farmers are."

  "I'm beginning to like these fishermen and farmers more and more."

  "They are nice," Pierre agreed, "but wild. Especially the fishermen.Oh, so wild! Out in the lake they go, afraid of nothing; but those thatdo not drown return with multitudes of fish."

  "Do many drown?"

  "Very many, but you cannot kill a fisherman. They say that the lakesends back two for every one it takes, and maybe that is so. At anyrate, when a fisherman drowns, two more always appear. I would gofishing myself were it not that I am afraid. Are you hungry, M'sieu?"

  "Yes," Ramsay answered fr
ankly.

  "Then I will get you something to eat."

  Pierre LeDou disappeared. Ramsay lay back on the bed to think. Now thishalf-wild, half-tame country into which he had come was assuming adefinite pattern. Some, like Pierre LeDou, had been attracted by theendless wealth offered, and had found only a back-breaking job withDevil Chad or his counterpart. Others, and Ramsay thought of Hans VanDoorst and Pieter Van Hooven, were finding wealth.

  It was not wealth that could be measured in terms of money; probably thecrazy Dutch fisherman and Pieter Van Hooven had little money, but justthe same it was wealth. Rather than toil meekly for someone else andobey a master's every wish, they had chosen to discover for themselvesthe true richness of this endlessly rich land and they were discoveringit. So some were afraid and some were not; and those who were not seemedto enjoy life at its fullest. And, as usual, there was the arrogantoverlord, Devil Chad, who wanted everything for himself and who wouldtake it if he could. He did not care what he did or whom he killed, aslong as he got what he wanted.

  Pierre LeDou came back, bearing a bowl on a wooden platter. Ramsaysniffed hungrily. The bowl was old and cracked, but like everything elsein the house it was scrupulously clean, and the odors wafted from itwould tempt the appetite of a dying man. Pierre put the bowl and awooden spoon down where Ramsay could reach them, and Ramsay saw a meatstew in which fluffy dumplings floated.

  "It is not much," the little Frenchman apologized. "Venison stew withdumplings, and that is all. Would you like some spirits to go with it?"

  "Uh!" Ramsay remembered the fiery liquor. "No thanks. I would like somewater."

  "I can offer you milk."

  "That will be fine."

  Pierre disappeared, and returned with a bowl of milk and a beaker of thestrong whisky. He gave the bowl to Ramsay and held the whisky aloft.

  "Your health, M'sieu," he said.

  He drained the beaker without even quivering, and Ramsay suppressed ashudder. Dipping the spoon in his venison stew, he tasted it. It wasrich, with all the expertness of French cuisine behind it, anddelicious. Ramsay took a chunk of venison in his mouth and chewed itwith relish. Venison, fish and whatever else they could get out of thecountry doubtless meant much to the people who lived here.

  "How long have you worked in the tannery?" he asked Pierre.

  "Five years," the little Frenchman said. "Five long years. I shall workthere much longer if God is kind."

  "May He always be kind to you!" Ramsay said feelingly.

  "My thanks to you, M'sieu Ramsay. And now, with your permission, I shallretire. I suggest that you sleep, for you look very weary. Should youwant anything you have only to call."

  Ramsay fell into a restful slumber from which he was awakened by thesound of people stirring. The early morning sun, just rising, caressedthe curtained window softly and a sleepy bird twittered outside thewindow. There was the sound of lifted stove lids and of people stirring.Ramsay dozed off, then sprang guiltily awake and jumped out of bed.

  He felt good, with only an occasional twinge of pain here and there.Hastily he pulled on his trousers and shirt, laced his shoes andsmoothed his rumpled hair with his hand. When he had made himself aspresentable as he could, he went into the other room.

  Though the hour was still early and the sun not yet fairly up, PierreLeDou had already left for his work in the tannery. His pleasant wifewas pouring hot water from a pan on the stove into a big wooden bowl,evidently the receptacle in which dishes were washed. She turned around.

  "Good morning!" Ramsay said cheerfully.

  "Good morning, M'sieu." Then she cautioned him. "Should you be out ofbed?"

  "I feel fine." Ramsay grinned. "Strong as a bull and twice as hungry."

  "Then I will prepare you something to eat. If M'sieu cares to do so, hemay wash just outside the door."

  "Thanks."

  Ramsay went out the door. To one side, in front of the house, there wasa big wooden bowl and two wooden pails filled with water. A well-worntrail threading away from the door obviously led to a well or spring.Hanging on a wooden peg driven into a hole, drilled in the cabin's wall,were a clean towel and washcloth. Even the door's hinges, cleverlycarved pins that turned on holes drilled into wooden blocks attached tothe cabin's wall, were wood. Evidently, in this country, woodsubstituted for metal.

  Ramsay filled the bowl with water, washed himself and went back into thecabin. Pierre LeDou's wife was bending over a skillet from which camethe smell of frying fish. Ramsay sniffed hungrily, and licked his lips.She turned the fish, let it cook a little while longer, and put it onthe table, along with feather-light biscuits, butter and cold milk.Ramsay ate hungrily, but tried to curb his appetite so he would also eatdecently, and as he ate he talked.

  "Why," he asked Pierre LeDou's wife, "did your husband bring me here?"

  "You were hurt and needed help," she said simply.

  In sudden haste Ramsay felt his pocket, and discovered that the twosilver dollars were gone. He remembered that he had lost them while hefought with Devil Chad, and a flood of embarrassment almost overwhelmedhim.

  "I--I have no money to pay you," he said awkwardly.

  For the first time she looked reprovingly at him. "We did not ask formoney, M'sieu. One does not."

  Ramsay knew another awkward moment and a little shame. "It is very goodof you," he said.

  She said, "One does not neglect a fellow human."

  Ramsay finished eating and pushed his dishes back. Pierre LeDou's wife,who had already finished washing the rest of the dishes, put Ramsay's inthe dish water and left them there. She smiled at him. "It would be wellif you rested."

  "I'm not tired. Really I'm not."

  "You should rest. Badly were you hurt."

  "Let me sit here a while."

  "As long as you sit."

  She went to a cupboard and took from it a big ball of strong linenthread. From the table she caught up a small board. Wrapping the threadtwice around the board, she knotted it. Slipping the thread from theboard, she hung the loop she had made on a wooden peg and made a newloop. Her hands flew so swiftly that in a few moments she had seventeenof the meshes, all joined together.

  "What are you doing?" Ramsay inquired interestedly.

  "Making a gill net," she explained. "It was ordered by Baptiste LeClair,a fisherman, and is to have a four and a half-inch mesh. So we use amesh board that is exactly two and a quarter inches wide and wrap thethread twice around. Now I have seventeen. See?"

  "I see."

  She strung the seventeen meshes on a wooden rod, placed two chairs farenough apart so that the meshes stretched, tied the rod to them andbegan knitting on the net she had started. "The net is to be seventeenmeshes, or seventy-six and one-half inches, wide. Now I lengthen it."

  Under the boy's interested eyes the gill net grew swiftly, and as itlengthened she wrapped it around the rod. Ramsay watched every move."How long will it be?" he queried.

  "One net," she told him, "is about two hundred and fifty feet long. Butusually several are tied together to form a box of nets. A box is aboutfourteen hundred feet."

  "Isn't that a lot?"

  She smiled. "A crew of three good men, like Hans Van Doorst or BaptisteLeClair, with a good Mackinaw boat can handle two boxes."

  "Could you make this net longer if you wished to?"

  "Oh, yes. It could be many miles long. Two hundred and fifty feet is agood length for one net because, if it is torn by strong water or heavyfish, it may be untied and repaired while the rest may still be used."

  "What else must you do?"

  "After the net is two hundred and fifty feet long, I will use fifteen-or sixteen-thread twine through from three to six meshes on the outeredge. This, in turn, will be tied to ninety-thread twine which extendsthe full length."

  Ramsay was amazed at the way this quiet little woman reeled off thesefigures, as though she were reciting a well-learned lesson. But hewanted to know even more. "How do they set such a net?"

  "The fishermen ga
ther small, flat stones, about three to the pound, andcut a groove around them so that they can be suspended from a rope.These are called sinkers, and are tied to the net about nine feet apart.For floats they use cedar blocks, about two feet long by one-quarter ofan inch thick and an inch and a quarter wide. They bore a small holeone inch from the end, then split the block to the bored hole. Thefloats--and the number they use depends on the depth to which they sinkthe net--are pushed over the ninety-thread twine."

  "Let me try!" Ramsay was beginning to feel the effects of idleness andwanted action.

  "But of course, M'sieu."

  Ramsay took the mesh board in his hand and, as he had seen her do,wrapped the thread twice around it. But, though it had looked simplewhen she did it, there was a distinct knack to doing it right. The meshboard slipped from his fingers and the twine unwound. Madame LeDoulaughed. "Let me show you."

  Patiently, carefully, she guided his fingers through the knitting of amesh, then another and a third and fourth. Ramsay felt a rising elation.He had liked the _Spray_ when he saw her and now he liked this. Fishing,from the making of the nets to setting them, seemed more than ever acraft that was almost an art. He knitted a row of meshes across the gillnet, and happily surveyed his work.

  At the same time he remained aware of the fact that she could knit threetimes as fast as he. Ramsay thrust his tongue into his cheek and grimlycontinued at his work.

  After an hour Madame LeDou said soberly, "You do right well, M'sieu. Butshould you not rest now?"

  Ramsay said, "This is fun."

  "It is well that you enjoy yourself. Would you consider it uncivil if Ileft you for a while?"

  "Please do what you must."

  She left, and Ramsay continued to work on the net. As he did, his skillimproved. Though he was still unable to knit as swiftly as Madame LeDou,he could make a good net. And there was a feel, a tension, to thethread. Within itself the thread had life and being. It was supple,strong and would not fail a fisherman who depended upon it.

  Madame LeDou returned, smiled at him and went unobtrusively about thetask of preparing a lunch. So absorbed was he in his net-making that hescarcely tasted the food. All afternoon he worked on the net.

  Madame LeDou said approvingly, "You make a good net, M'sieu. You haveknitted almost four pounds of thread into this one. The most skillednet-makers, those who have had years of experience, cannot knit morethan six or seven pounds in one day."

  Twilight shadows were lengthening when Pierre LeDou returned. The littleman, as always, was courteous. But behind his inherited Gallic grace andmanners lay a troubled under-current. Pierre spoke in rapid French tohis wife, and she turned worried eyes on their guest. Ramsay stoppedknitting the net.

  All afternoon there had been growing upon him an awareness that he couldnot continue indefinitely to accept the LeDou's hospitality, and now heknew that he must go. The pattern had definite shape, and the reasonbehind Pierre's uneasiness was not hard to fathom. Devil Chad was theruler, and Devil Chad must rule. Who harbored his enemy must be hisenemy, and Pierre LeDou needed the job in the tannery. Should he loseit, the LeDous could not live.

  With an air of spontaneity, anxious not to cause his host and hostessany embarrassment, Ramsay rose and smiled. "It has been a most enjoyablestay at your home," he said. "But of course it cannot continue. I havework to find. If you will be kind enough to shelter me again tonight, Iwill go tomorrow, and I shall never forget the LeDous."