I kissed her hand, flung it off, turned and went down the beach. She
did not look about, but presently as I saw, turned and went back
toward the camp, her head hanging. And, as I had said to her, I never
loved her so much in all my life, though never was I so little
disposed to go one step in her pursuit.
Partial sat, looking after her also, his heart torn in the division
between us, for he loved us both.
"Partial," I called to him harshly, and he came, his ears down and
very unhappy. Silently, the dog at my heels, I strode on down the
beach, and so I saw her no more for some time.
I found for myself a driftwood log at the edge of the sea-marsh, and
here for a time I sat down, moodily staring out across the bay, as
unhappy, I fancy, as man gets to be in this world. I scarce know how
long I sat here, in the wind which blew salt across the bay, and for
some time, I paid no attention to the clamoring fowl which passed and
repassed not far from my point.
At length, a long harrow of great Canadian geese passed so close to me
that without much thought about it, I raised the gun and fired. I
killed two birds, and as I picked them up I found they were not a
brace, but a pair. The report of my gun started a clamoring of all
manner of fowl beyond the edge of reeds which hid the reef. A cloud of
ducks passed before me, and slipping in the shells once more, I fired
right and left. Again I killed my brace, and again when I picked them
up they were a pair. The head of one was green, the other brown. "Male
and female made He them!" said I. "If I had not killed these birds, in
the spring they would have gone northward, to the edge of the world in
their own love-making, thousands of miles from here." I looked at my
quarry with remorse, and not caring to shoot more, at length picked up
the birds and slowly started back to camp, not looking forward with
any too great pleasure, it may be imagined, to further meetings with
the woman whom, of all the world, I most cared to meet.
I found all the others of the party amiably engaged in camp affairs.
The tent now was up, the fire was arranged in more practical fashion,
and John was busy with his pans. Lafitte, ever resourceful and ever
busy, was out with Willy after more oysters. L'Olonnois, his partner,
seemed engaged in some sort of argument with his Auntie Helena.
"Jimmy, I can't!" I heard her say. "There isn't any sugar."