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He read the names on the back of them: Neutral Tint, Prussian Blue, Indian Red, Yellow Ochre, Brown Madder, Brown Pink, Burnt Umber, Vandyke Brown, Indigo, King's Yellow, Rose Madder, and Ivory Black. It says much for Jan's uprightness of spirit, and for the sense of duty in which the schoolmaster was training him, that he did not neglect school for his new treasure.
It saved him now. The club cut through the air over his head, and, carried by the momentum of his own blow, O'Grady lurched against him with the full force of his two hundred pounds of muscle and bone. Jan's knife swept in an upward flash and plunged to the hilt through the flesh of his enemy's forearm.
In that same moment Sergeant Moore stepped forward, with a hoarse cry: "Here, damme!" he shouted at O'Malley, "you'd better haul off your captain's dog, or or mine'll kill him!" And with a resounding thwack he brought his riding-cane down across Jan's forehead.
"There's no Indian sign about it, old man," said Dick. "It isn't any lambasting Jan's afraid of. You watch his face now, when I lift this stick." The men all watched, and noted that Jan did not move so much as an eyelid in response to the lifting of a stick. "Well, that's queer," said old Cartier, the French-Canadian dealer, who was visiting a friend in the barracks.
The servant came in with the supper-tray, and laid it on the table. "Is the cold pork to come in?" asked she. "I have not brought it. I thought, perhaps, you'd not care to have it in to-night, ma'am, as Mr. Jan's out." Miss Deborah cast her eyes on the tray. There was a handsome piece of cheese, and a large glass of fresh celery.
It was whilst he was going with an anxious countenance towards the village shop that Master Chuter met him with open arms. When the innkeeper discovered Jan's errand, he insisted on packing up a prime cut of bacon, some new-laid eggs, and a bottle of "crusty" old port, such as the squires drank at election dinners, to take to the schoolmaster.
It has been asserted by several well-known travellers that the effluvium from this mass tainted the air to such an extent that it was perceived one hundred and fifty miles inland!" "Heigh!" exclaimed little Jan. "I didn't think anybody had so good a nose." At little Jan's remark there was a general laugh. Von Bloom did not join in their merriment. He was in too serious a mood just then.
In late mid-winter Jan returned to Oxford House with his furs. It was on the night of the day that he came into the post that he heard a Frenchman who had come down from the north speak of Lac Bain. None noticed the change in Jan's face as he hung back in the shadows of the company's store.
In the next moment he tore a groove six inches long down Jan's left shoulder, scooping out skin and fur as a machine saw might have done it; and in the same second he was away again, wolf-like, his steel muscles already contracting for the next attack. Now Jan had no thought of fighting when he bowled Sourdough over.
We met three women walking down a lonely street. Although their faces were covered with several thicknesses of black chiffon, they modestly placed them against the wall and stood there, three shapeless bundles, until we were out of sight. Jan's feelings were very much hurt, but he soon got used to being treated like a dangerous dragon.
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