|Fur Trapper's Log Cabin, Canada. From Corbis Images|
I asked Corniaud about the name he’d given the Frenchman. He said it meant hairy body, a good description, I thought, not that I ever saw more of him than his head: the shaggy, dark shoulder-length mane, bushy eyebrows and thick beard. His hairy hands, too. Only Corniaud knew what he looked like under his buckskins. They were lovers, after all. He didn’t keep Corniaud with him just to talk. If other people suspected, they kept it to themselves, as did I, who knew it for a fact. It neither embarrassed nor disgusted me that they slept together. Who’s to say I wouldn’t have done the same if I were in his place? Even a loner like the Frenchman can’t live without sex.
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