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Updated: May 2, 2025
"My name's Bob Gray, sir, an' I lives at Wolf Bight." Then Bob went on, prompted now and again by the factor's questions, to tell the story of his adventures. "Well," said Mr. MacPherson, "you've had a wonderful escape from freezing and death and a remarkable experience. You'd better go over to the men's house and they'll put you up there.
Without realizing the recklessness and folly of it, I started in pursuit, calling her name in a hoarse whisper. But I was too late, swiftly as I moved. I reached the edge of the trees in time to see a flash of light as the rear door of the factor's house opened and closed.
Each seemed to find in the other a companion that neither had been able to find among the few friends of his own faith. And so, through the long evenings of the northern winter, they sat in the curé's cabin study or by the factor's fire, and talked of the things which they found interesting, including politics, literature, art, and Indians.
"The police, perhaps," persisted McTaggart. "Why, yes of course the police," said the stranger, looking straight into the factor's eyes. "And now, m'sieu, as a very great courtesy to the Law I'm going to ask you to send a bullet through that beast's head before we go on. Will you? Or shall I?" "It's the law of the line," said McTaggart, "to let a trap robber rot in the traps.
With this idea in his mind he sauntered in the direction of the factor's headquarters, half-meaning to secure another interview with the other, at which, perhaps, matters might be threshed out, and light let in where all was darkness now. He changed his mind, however, when he saw that Mr.
It is an alarming sensation to see one's name on a waggon for the first time, especially when the vehicle has been wholly repainted in blue or yellow to represent the owner's supposed political tendencies, for such was the custom in Worcestershire; but perhaps one's name, address, and crest on a hop-pocket is more alarming still, when we remember that twenty or more of these pockets, all marked alike, will form each of several loads to be carted from a London railway station to the Borough, the seat of the hop-trade, on the way to the factor's warehouses, for all beholders to "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest."
As he stood so the pacing figure halted a moment before the opening. "S-s-t!" it whispered; "warn Ma'amselle!" then walked away. Swift on the words another figure crept noiselessly to the lodge door. "M'sieu," said Edmonton Ridgar, beneath his breath, "give me the factor's shoulders. Do you take his feet and follow, softly, for your life. Bring the maid."
Philip pointed to the factor's big York boat, already two-thirds of the way to the ship. "We should have gone with Bludsoe," he said. "Brokaw will think this a shabby reception on our part, and Miss Brokaw won't be half flattered. We'll go down and get a good position on the pier."
Jaspar Hume ran his eye over them and then answered the factor's question: "Of the White Guard, sir." "Good," was the reply. "Men, you are going on a relief expedition. There will be danger. You need a good leader. You have one in Captain Hume."
The harsh din of the encampment all but drowned the factor's words, and Hedin smiled. "Do not understand what?" he asked. "'Tis yourself I do not understand. Ye've never handled raw fur, yet in the handling of thirty packs I have not changed the rating of a skin. By your own word, 'tis your first venture into the North, yet since the day of your coming ye have behaved like a man of the North.
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