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Updated: June 14, 2025
When Bernique spoke again it was to say breathlessly, "You take the Teegmores, Mistaire Steering, and protect Madeira's fortune. You can do that easy." "I know. It looks easy. But think back a little. Madeira is sure to fight. Grierson's death occurred months ago under an assumed name. To prove that he died we must prove when he died, where he died and who he was.
"She'll do the rat thing whend she knows, Unc' Bernique;" he had put the pony about, "I'll see you on the hills in the mornin'!" he was gone down the yellow road like a winged Mercury. On the hills behind him, Old Bernique, comprehending and envying, locked his hands on his saddle-horn in a vehement tension.
Circumstanced as he was now, with the only three people whom he could count as friends in Missouri almost always away from him, life had come to mean little but this feverish, alert waiting. He went out and sat down by the shivering Di for his very last wait for any of the three. It was there that old Bernique came upon him. Steering was shivering a little, too. "Dieu!
"Greatest State in the Union, this Missouri," he said with tremendous conviction. "Where's Uncle Bernique?" "Gone an hour ago." "Well then, can't we start, too?" The same tingle of impatience seemed to reach both at once. They ran back into the house. The cavalcade wound on up Ridge Road toward the Tigmores. At its far-away end now trotted the Kentucky blacks, drawing a light trap.
Steering"; once on Main Street in front of her father's bank, where she had said, "Good-evening, Mr. Steering." But for all these things, he was not done with Missouri yet. Even now he was waiting for old Bernique. When Bernique should come they would be off again on a long prospect.
This was the sort of thing that François Placide DeLassus Bernique liked. The people contented themselves within the clearing the little time that remained of the morning. At one side of the clearing, fenced off by ropes, was a long trench, across which stretched poles of tough green hickory.
An' here las' week the letter to Unc' Bernique was mailed, aouter ole Grierson's grave like an' Unc Bernique he's jes got it, an' it tells him that ole Grierson died las' September an' that he writtend your father to say so." "I don't understand that, Piney. Mr. Grierson died last September and has written letters since he died, you are getting it all mixed, aren't you?"
Crittenton Madeira now, and I wish you would come to me in Canaan some soon day and let me tell you the result of my business with him." Time was limited, for the horses were close to the cross-roads sign-post. "The Canaan Tigmores won't always belong to old Bruce Grierson, Mr. Bernique!" It was a random shot, but it told against Bernique's glumness. "Pouf! The bat-fool! The blind mole!"
"Mrs. Steering! That's something of a title, too, isn't it? But, after all, who is so proud of newcome titles as the Superintendent of the Gulch Mine, François Placide DeLassus Bernique, eh, Mistaire Steering?" "Old chap's satisfaction is good to live in. Oh, we are all happy, happy! Elsie and Carington seem to be hitting it off well, too, don't they?"
Yessair, the Canaan Tigmores," repeated old Bernique, looking out over the ridges of hills and the flats listlessly; so listlessly that, by one of those flashes of intuitive perception that light us far along waiting paths, Steering knew suddenly that he had to deal with a man whose experience had somehow crossed the Canaan Tigmores.
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