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Updated: June 28, 2025
What she saw was Foxy, her smooth little friend, so dignified, so secure of kindness, held in the hand of the purple-faced huntsman above the pack that raved for her convulsive body. She knew how Foxy's eyes would look, and she nearly fainted at the knowledge. She heard her scream. Yes; Foxy would cry to her, as she had cried to the Mighty One dwelling in darkness. And she? What would she do?
"Finally Foxy strides to his store door, and apparently urged to frenzy by the sight of the wreckage therein, comes back and lands a sharp cuff on his antagonist's ear. "It is all that is needed. As if he had touched a spring, Hughie flew at him wildly, inconsequently making a windmill of his arms. But fortunately he runs foul of one of Foxy's big fists, and falls back with spouting nose.
The most interesting and most successful of Foxy's schemes was the game of "store," which he introduced, Foxy himself being the storekeeper. He had the trader's genius for discovering and catering to the weaknesses of people, and hence his store became, for certain days of the week, the center of life during the recreation hours.
Enthusiastic yells from Foxy's following. And Foxy, having done much better than he expected, is encouraged to pursue his advantage. "Meantime the blood is being mopped off Hughie's face with a snowball, his tears flowing equally with his blood. "'Wait till to-morrow, urges Fusie, his little French fidus Achates. "'To-morrow! yells Hughie, suddenly. 'No, but now!
The two stood silent, then Jack's quick eye caught sight of the Chippewa many yards distant crawling on his belly like a snake, in and out among the blueberry bushes upstream. "Foxy's gone for all night; we'll never see him until daylight. He'll watch that canoe like a lynx. He's worth his weight in gold," murmured Matt Larson.
Foxy's store was built of slabs covered with thick brush, and set off with a plank counter and shelves, whereon were displayed his wares. His stock was never too large for his personal transportation, but its variety was almost infinite, bull's-eyes and liquorice, maple sugar and other "sweeties," were staples.
Ward looked at her with that keenness of glance which was hard to meet if one wanted to keep a secret from him. "Why?" Billy Louise's tone did not invite further questioning. "Oh, nothing! I just wondered." "You don't like Charlie; anybody can see that." "Yes? Foxy's a real nice young man." "But you don't like him. You never do like anybody " "No?"
It appeared from Foxy's violent accusations that Hughie had been guilty of wrecking the store, which, by the way, the latter utterly despises and contemns. The following interesting and striking conversation took place: "'What are you doing in my store, anyway? says he of the brilliant foliage. 'You're just a thief, that's what you are, and a sneaking thief. "Promptly the lie comes back.
But besides all this, he had an instinctive shrinking from Foxy, and sympathized with Betsy Dan in her creepy feeling whenever he approached. Hence he refused allegiance, and drew upon himself Foxy's jealous hatred.
It had been a tender and nourishing chicken; the hours she had spent in gnawing through her rope had been well repaid. 'Oh! you darlin' wicked little thing! wailed Hazel. 'You munna do it, Foxy, or he'll drown you dead. What for did you do it, Foxy, my dear? Foxy's eyes became more eloquent and more liquid. 'You gallus little blessed! said Hazel again. 'Eh!
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