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"Who fired that shot? And what was the thing that was lifted from your canoe and dropped into the river?" Lapierre's eyes searched hers. Did she know the truth? The chance was against it. "A most deplorable affair a fight between Indians. One was killed and we buried him in the river. I had hoped to keep this from your ears. Such incidents are all too common in the Northland " "And the murderer "
Brushwood and trees fell before the axes of the half-breeds and Indians, who worked in a sort of frenzy under the lashing drive of Lapierre's tongue; and the night skies glowed red in the flare of the flames where the brush and tree-tops burned in the clearing.
"There will be a " Chloe felt the warning touch of Lapierre's finger at her back and ceased abruptly. MacNair continued, as if unmindful of the interruption. "Build your school, by all means. 'Tis a spot well chosen by yon devil's spawn, and for his own ends. By your eyes you are honest in purpose a fool's purpose and a hare-brained carrying out of it. You are being used as a tool by Lapierre.
The plateau itself was sparsely covered with a growth of stunted spruce and banskian, which served as a screen both for the stockade and the long, low, fort-like building of logs, which was Lapierre's main cache for the storing of fur, goods of barter, and contraband whiskey.
"No, but I've heard he has one somewhere around the east end of the lake." MacNair laughed. "Yes, and if you hunted the east end of the lake for it you could hunt a year without finding it. If you really want to know where it is, come along, I'll show you. I happen to be going there." "What's the idea?" asked the officer, regarding MacNair quizzically. "The idea is just this. Lapierre's no fool.
Besides, he used to neglect his wife, and a man who neglects his wife ain't a man to trust with a couple o' thousand dollars at a time. No sir-ree! Not much, he ain't. But, as I was sayin', the way he used to harp on this place o' Lapierre's was a caution.
Woman never yet have I owned any whiskey." Chloe sneered "And the Indians do they not hate you?" "Yes, those Indians do and well they may. Most of them have crossed my path at some time or other. And most of them will cross it again at Lapierre's instigation. Some of them I shall have to kill." "You speak lightly of murder." "Murder?" "Yes, murder! The murder of poor, ignorant savages.
The remaining Indians he set to work felling trees for a small stockade which would serve as a defence against a surprise attack. Saplings were also felled for light ladders to be used in the scaling of Lapierre's walls.
On the evening of Saturday, the 13th of the month, sundry of the yeomen who lived thereabouts assembled at Lapierre's, after a hard week's work, to congratulate one another on the prospects of the harvest, and to discuss a few tankards of the reaming ale for which the Royal Oak was famous throughout the township.
His Saturday nights' potations did not interfere with his timely appearance on Sunday morning in his pew in the little church which stood on the hill a short distance above Lapierre's. His wife usually sat by his side, and accompanied him to and fro. Everything seemed to indicate that the couple lived happily together, and that they were mutually blessed in their domestic relations.
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