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"Mak me feel good. I know what's the matter wit' me now. I understand all. I was mad for cause I think I got poor mis'able fat'er lak Charley." "It is well," said Musq'oosis. "You know my fat'er?" asked Bela eagerly. He nodded gravely. "Tell me." Musq'oosis seemed to look within. "Long tam ago," he began, "though I am not yo'ng then neither. It was in the Louis Riel war I see your fat'er.
I play trick for to mak' fun and be friends. Now I know ot'er white men not lak my fat'er. Now I look out for myself." Big Jack had the grace to scowl shamefacedly and look away. "Say, that's right," he muttered. "You're dead right, sister. We got in wrong. I'm sorry. These other fellows, they're sorry, too. We made it up together to tell you we was sorry.
He got everyt'ing else. They ask my fat'er w'at to do." Tole went on: "Always my fat'er say: 'Wait, he say. 'We got get white man on our side. We got get white man who knows all outside ways. He bring an outfit in and trade wit' us. The people don't want to wait. 'We starve! they say. "My fat'er say: 'Non! Gaviller not let you starve. For why, because you not bring him any fur if you dead.
"Pretty soon, I t'ink, the people not listen to him no more. They are mad. This year there will be trouble about the grain. Gaviller put the price down to dollar-fifty bushel. But he sell flour the same." "Do you mean to say he buys your grain at his own price, and sells you back the flour at his own price?" demanded Ambrose. Tole nodded. "My fat'er the first farmer here," he explained.
"All the people on ot'er side the river call my fat'er head man. When there is trouble all come to our house to talk to my fat'er because he is educate'. He got good sense. "Before, I tell you there is good fur here. It is the truth. But the people are poor. Every year they are more poor as last year. The people say: 'Bam-by old man Gaviller tak' our shirts!
You can take her everywhere oh, Peter, you can give her a good time!" Peter bowed his head. There was a humble grace about the gesture which Sylvia never forgot. "You ver' yust lady, missus," he said simply; "dat must be for you to say. Vell, den, after my fat'er and moder haf welcomed her, ve shall travel. Dem in de spring if you need me for de cows Mr.
He told Ambrose that he had come that morning and found him gone. He had come back to tell him what the white man already knew that, though Gaviller had been laid low by a mysterious stroke, he had sent word from his sick-bed that he would pay no more than one-fifty for wheat. "The men are moch mad," Tole went on in his matter-of-fact way. "They not listen to my fat'er no more. Say he too old.
I am a colonel and a memper; my fat'er was a colonel and a memper; and my grand-fet'er woult have peen a colonel and a memper, but dere vast no colonels and no mempers in his time; though Tirck, yonter can be a colonel and a memper, wit'out crosting dat terriple ferry that frightens Matam Littlepage so much." There was usually a little humour in all Col.
I not lak them ver' moch. Only my mot'er. But I am live there before for 'cause I not know not'ing. Well, one day I hit my fat'er wit' a stick no, hit my mot'er's 'osban' wit' a stick. So my mot'er tell me my fat'er a white man. Her fat'er white man, too. So I mos' white. So I go 'way from those people." "But you've got to have some home somebody to live with!" said Sam anxiously.
He will keep you goin' poor. Be patient, my fat'er say. 'This is rich country. It is known outside. Bam-by some white man come wit' outfit and pay good prices. "Always my fat'er try to have no trouble," continued Tole. "But old man Gaviller hear about the meetings at our house. He hear everyt'ing. He write a letter to my fat'er that the men mus' come no more. "My fat'er write back.
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