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Updated: June 1, 2025
To the forest man such a blow was the deadliest of insults. It was calling him an Iskwao a woman a weakling a thing too contemptible to harden one's fist against. But the murmur died in an instant. For Reese Beaudin, making as if to step back, shot suddenly forward straight through the giant's crooked arms and it was his fist this time that landed squarely between the eyes of Dupont.
No one had ever seen him at Lac Bain before, yet in the excitement of the carnival the fact passed without conjecture or significance. And from the cabin of Henri Paquette another pair of eyes saw Reese Beaudin, and Mother Paquette heard a sob that in itself was a prayer.
He played it, smiling down into the eyes of a monster whose face was turning from red to black; yet he did not play it to the end, nor a quarter of it, for suddenly a voice shouted: "It is Reese Beaudin come back!"
"He has not come!" he cried for the twentieth time. "He has not come!" He moved on, and Reese Beaudin ten feet away turned and smiled at Joe Delesse with triumph in his eyes. He moved nearer. "Did I not tell you he would not find in me that narrow-shouldered, smooth-faced stripling of five years ago?" he asked. "N'est-ce pas, friend Delesse?" The face of Joe Delesse was heavy with a somber fear.
On this there peered forth from a window in the factor's house the darkly bearded, smiling face of Reese Beaudin. "I have seen him three times, wandering about in the crowd, seeking someone," he said. "Bien, he shall find that someone very soon!" In the face of McDougall, the factor, was a strange look.
Is it so?" "Does it go well when a dove is mated to a vulture, m'sieu?" "I have also heard that she grew up to be very beautiful," said Reese Beaudin, "and that Jacques Dupont killed a man for her. If that is so " "It is not so," interrupted Delesse. "He drove another man away no, not a man, but a yellow-livered coward who had no more fight in him than a porcupine without quills!
For though none but the stranger had seen it, Jacques Dupont's head snapped back and all saw the fourth blow that sent him reeling like a man struck by a club. There was no sound now. A mental and a vocal paralysis seized upon the inhabitants of Lac Bain. Never had they seen fighting like this fighting of Reese Beaudin.
Joe Delesse, paralyzed, speechless, could have sworn it was the hooded stranger who shouted; and then he remembered, and flung up his great arms, and bellowed: "Oui by the Saints, it is Reese Beaudin Reese Beaudin come back!" Suddenly as it had begun the playing ceased, and Henri Paquette found himself with the violin in his hands.
It is Parka and Dupont sells him today to show her that he is master." Already Paquette was advertising the virtues of Parka when Reese Beaudin, in a single leap, mounted the log platform, and stood beside him. "Wait!" he cried. There fell a silence, and Reese said, loud enough for all to hear: "M'sieu Paquette, I ask the privilege of examining this dog that I want to buy."
The platform was twenty feet square, with the floor side of the logs hewn flat, and there was no lack of space for the gesticulation and wild pantomime of Paquette. In one hand he held a notebook, and in the other a pencil. In the notebook the sales of twenty dogs were already tabulated, and the prices paid. Anxiously, Reese Beaudin was waiting.
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