Caius had packed up all his belongings. There was nothing for him to do
but drive along the dune with his luggage, as he had driven four months
before, and take the steamer that night to Souris. The cart that took
him would no doubt bring back Le Maitre. Caius had not yet hired a cart;
he had not the least idea whether O'Shea intended to drive him and bring
back his enemy or not. That would, no doubt, be Josephine's desire.
Caius had not seen Josephine or spoken to O'Shea; it mattered nothing to
him what arrangement they would or would not make for him.
As he still stood watching to see if the breeze would round and fill the
sails which the Gaspe schooner had set, O'Shea came back and called from
the foot of the knoll. Caius turned; he bore the man no ill will.
Josephine's horse had not been injured by the accident of yesterday, and
his own fall was a matter of complete indifference.
"I'm thinking, as ye packed yer bags, ye'll be going for the steamer."
O'Shea spoke with that indefinable insult in his tone which had always
characterized it in the days of their first intercourse, but, apart from
that, his manner was crisp and cool as the morning air; not a shade of
discouragement was visible.
"I am going for the steamer," said Caius, and waited to hear what offer
of conveyance was to be made him.
"Well, I'm thinking," said O'Shea, "that I'll just take the boat across
the bay, and bring back the captain from Harbour Island; but as his
honour might prefer the cart, I'll send the cart round by the dune.
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