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This one was not important; it meant three days delay to build a raft. There was a current of nearly four miles an hour to carry him to his destination, and no rapids in the three hundred miles to endanger his cargo. Tole Grampierre and his brother Germain were waiting for Ambrose. With two such aides he could afford to smile at the mysterious scarcity of labor which developed on his arrival.
He is good to my eyes lak the green leaves in spring. He is come to Fort Enterprise and there is no more winter. "The name of Peter Minot and the name of Ambrose Doane make good words to my ear. They are the friends of the red men. They pay good price for fur. They sell outside goods cheap. I want a box of cigars me, same lak you send Simon Grampierre."
You've no right to marry and have children!" Somehow they apprehended the compassion that animated his anger, and were not afraid of him. They lined up before him, mutely bespeaking his assistance. Their faith in his power to rescue them was implicit. That was what made it impossible for him to refuse. "Here," he said roughly. "You'll have to take my dugout. I'll get another from Grampierre.
Its hold was filled with bags of grain, on which squatted and lay many dark figures scarcely to be distinguished from the bags. No whisper marked its passage; not a pipe-bowl glowed. On the little steering platform stood Simon Grampierre wielding a long sweep run through a ring astern. The ring was muffled with strips of cloth.
Colina understood from her signs that the biggest opal ever mined would not tempt Marya to wander in the bush after dark. Colina did some rapid thinking. She doubted whether Germain Grampierre after having been warned by the police would go with her to the other village. She quickly decided that she didn't want him with her anyway, worthy, stupid fellow that he was.
You must do everything yourself." Therefore, after the details had been arranged, it fell to Ambrose to compose the letter to Simon Grampierre. It was the longest letter he had ever written. Tole and I arrived yesterday after a quick trip. I have talked with my partner. We agree to purchase all the grain grown around Fort Enterprise this season at one-seventy-five per bushel.
Some one will buy it. "Gaviller himself got to buy when he see we mean to stand together. He has made contracts to send flour to the far north. Who wants to speak?" A little man of marked French characteristics sprang to his feet. His eyes flashed. "I speak!" he cried. "This Jean Bateese Gagnon," explained Simon to Ambrose. "Simon Grampierre say wait!" cried the little man passionately.
The visitor was a handsome young breed of Ambrose's own age. Ambrose surveyed his broad shoulders, his thin, graceful waist and thighs approvingly. He rejoiced in an animal built for speed and endurance. Moreover, the young man's glance was direct and calm. This was a native who respected himself. "Tole Grampierre, me," he said, offering his hand. Ambrose grasped it. "I'm Ambrose Doane," he said.
Ambrose began to suspect that he had ridden out on purpose to see him. The better men among the natives, such as Tole Grampierre, have a pride of their own; but they never presume to the same footing as the white men. Strange, however, talked as one gentleman to another. There was nothing blatant in it; he had a well-bred man's care for the prejudices of another.
There was little talk. The room having been cleared, they went inside. The women had disappeared. Simon Grampierre sat at an end of the room, with Ambrose at his right, and his sons ranged about him. The other men faced them from the body of the room.
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