They fell among the dishes. The coffee scalded him, and he momentarily relaxed his hold. Bela wriggled clear, unkissed. Joe capsized of his own weight, and, slipping off the end of the table, found himself on his back among broken dishes on the floor.
He picked himself up, scarcely improved in temper. Bela had disappeared. He sat down to wait for her, dogged, sheepish, a little inclined to weep out of self-pity.
Even now he would not admit the fact that she might like another man--a small, insignificant man--better than himself. Joe was the kind of man who will not take a refusal.
In a few minutes, getting no sign of her, he got up and looked into the tent kitchen. Old Mary Otter was there, alone, washing dishes with a perfectly bland face.
"Her gone to company house for see Beattie's wife mak' jam puddin'," answered Mary.
Joe strode out of the door scowling and drove away. His horses suffered for his anger.
Joe found the usual group of gossipers in the store of the French outfit. Beside the two traders, there were two of the latest arrivals from the outside, a policeman off duty, and young Mattison, of the surveying party, who had ridden in on a message from Graves, and was taking his time about starting back.
Up north it is unfashionable to be in a hurry. Of them all only Stiffy, in his little compartment at the back, was busy. He was totting up his beloved figures.
Joe found them talking about the night before, with references to Sam in no friendly strain. Joe had the wit to conceal from them a part of the rage that was consuming him, though it was not easy to do so. He sat down in the background, and for the most part kept his mouth shut. Anything that anybody could say against Sam was meat and drink to him.
"Blest if I can see what the girl sees in him," said Mahooley. "There are better men for her to pick from."
"He's spoiled our fun, damn him!" said another. "The place won't be the same again."
"Who is this fellow Sam?" asked one of the newcomers.
"A damn ornery little cook who's got his head swole," muttered Joe.
"He kept his place till he got a team to drive," said Mattison.
"What for did you want to give him the job of teaming, Mahooley?" asked Mattison.
"Matter of business," replied the trader carelessly. "He was on the spot."
