"I see. And Devil Chad controls 'the job'?"
"Not all," Pierre LeDou explained. "He does not walk so freely where the
fishermen 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 that
do not drown return with multitudes of fish."
"Do many drown?"
"Very many, but you cannot kill a fisherman. They say that the lake
sends back two for every one it takes, and maybe that is so. At any
rate, when a fisherman drowns, two more always appear. I would go
fishing myself were it not that I am afraid. Are you hungry, M'sieu?"
"Yes," Ramsay answered frankly.
"Then I will get you something to eat."
Pierre LeDou disappeared. Ramsay lay back on the bed to think. Now this
half-wild, half-tame country into which he had come was assuming a
definite pattern. Some, like Pierre LeDou, had been attracted by the
endless wealth offered, and had found only a back-breaking job with
Devil Chad or his counterpart. Others, and Ramsay thought of Hans Van
Doorst and Pieter Van Hooven, were finding wealth.
It was not wealth that could be measured in terms of money; probably the
crazy Dutch fisherman and Pieter Van Hooven had little money, but just
the same it was wealth. Rather than toil meekly for someone else and
obey a master's every wish, they had chosen to discover for themselves
the true richness of this endlessly rich land and they were discovering
it. So some were afraid and some were not; and those who were not seemed
to enjoy life at its fullest. And, as usual, there was the arrogant
overlord, Devil Chad, who wanted everything for himself and who would
take it if he could. He did not care what he did or whom he killed, as
long as he got what he wanted.
Pierre LeDou came back, bearing a bowl on a wooden platter. Ramsay
sniffed hungrily. The bowl was old and cracked, but like everything else
in the house it was scrupulously clean, and the odors wafted from it
would tempt the appetite of a dying man. Pierre put the bowl and a
wooden spoon down where Ramsay could reach them, and Ramsay saw a meat
stew in which fluffy dumplings floated.
"It is not much," the little Frenchman apologized. "Venison stew with
dumplings, and that is all. Would you like some spirits to go with it?"
"Uh!" Ramsay remembered the fiery liquor. "No thanks. I would like some
water."
"I can offer you milk."
"That will be fine."
Pierre disappeared, and returned with a bowl of milk and a beaker of the
strong 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 a
shudder. Dipping the spoon in his venison stew, he tasted it. It was
rich, with all the expertness of French cuisine behind it, and
delicious. Ramsay took a chunk of venison in his mouth and chewed it
with relish. Venison, fish and whatever else they could get out of the
country 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 work
there 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 shall
retire. I suggest that you sleep, for you look very weary. Should you
want anything you have only to call."
Ramsay fell into a restful slumber from which he was awakened by the
sound of people stirring. The early morning sun, just rising, caressed
the curtained window softly and a sleepy bird twittered outside the
window. 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 and
smoothed his rumpled hair with his hand. When he had made himself as
presentable as he could, he went into the other room.
Though the hour was still early and the sun not yet fairly up, Pierre
LeDou had already left for his work in the tannery. His pleasant wife
was 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 of
bed?"
"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, he
may wash just outside the door."
"Thanks."
Ramsay went out the door. To one side, in front of the house, there was
a big wooden bowl and two wooden pails filled with water. A well-worn
trail 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, cleverly
carved pins that turned on holes drilled into wooden blocks attached to
the cabin's wall, were wood. Evidently, in this country, wood
substituted for metal.
Ramsay filled the bowl with water, washed himself and went back into the
cabin. Pierre LeDou's wife was bending over a skillet from which came
the 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 on
the table, along with feather-light biscuits, butter and cold milk.
Ramsay ate hungrily, but tried to curb his appetite so he would also eat
decently, 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 two
silver dollars were gone. He remembered that he had lost them while he
fought with Devil Chad, and a flood of embarrassment almost overwhelmed
him.
"I--I have no money to pay you," he said awkwardly.
For the first time she looked reprovingly at him. "We did not ask for
money, M'sieu. One does not."
Ramsay knew another awkward moment and a little shame. "It is very good
of you," he said.