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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Any other woman " he said to himself a score of times, looking at Frona and trying to picture numerous women he had known by his mother's teapot, knocking at the door and coming in as Frona had done. Then, again, it was only yesterday that it would have hurt him, Blanche's rubbing her feet; but now he gloried in Frona's permitting it, and his heart went out in a more kindly way to Blanche.
No!" he exclaimed, with swift resolution, "it shall not be! I will cross the ice!" He would have started precipitately down the bank had not Jacob Welse caught his arm. "Not such a rush, baron. Keep your head." "But " "But nothing. Does the man want food, or medicine, or what? Wait a moment. We will try it together." "Count me in," St. Vincent volunteered promptly, and Frona's eyes sparkled.
Behind him the Virgin was laughing and Jake Cornell roaring: "Oh, cable this message along the track; The Prod's out West, but he's coming back; Put plenty of veal for one on the rack, Trolla lala, la la la, la la!" "What is it?" Vance questioned. "Anything up?" "I think you might ask me in." There was a hint of reproach in Frona's voice, and of haste.
"Eight cents," he said to the Indian. Whereupon the Indians laughed scornfully and chorused, "Forty cents!" A pained expression came into his face, and he looked about him anxiously. The sympathetic light in Frona's eyes caught him, and he regarded her with intent blankness. In reality he was busy reducing a three-ton outfit to terms of cash at forty dollars per hundred-weight.
"You have the right to cross-examine the witness," the chairman informed St. Vincent. "Any questions you want to ask?" The correspondent shook his head. "Go on," Frona urged. "What's the use?" he asked, hopelessly. "I'm fore-doomed. The verdict was reached before the trial began." "One moment, please." Frona's sharp command arrested the retiring witness.
It was none of my seeking. I was forced into it by the best of motives. I am not sorry, and I would repeat it if necessary." "And rightly so." Frona's eyes were sparkling. "And how did Mr. St. Vincent acquit himself?" "He? . . . . Oh, I suppose all right, creditably. I was too busy watching my other self to take notice." "But he saw you." "Most likely so. I acknowledge my negligence.
Below, and but a few feet away, Del Bishop ran out to the bank, and above the roar they could hear faintly his "Hit 'er up! Hit 'er up!" Then the ice-rim wrinkled up and he sprang back to escape it. "The first opening," Corliss gasped. Frona's lips spread apart; she tried to speak but failed, then nodded her head that she had heard.
As though ye'd niver had dalin's with the stiff-necked breed, ye calamitous son iv misfortune!" Then he went his way, still growling deeply, and at every growl the curious wolf-dog at his heels bristled and bared its fangs. "Tired?" Jacob Welse put both hands on Frona's shoulders, and his eyes spoke the love his stiff tongue could not compass.
"And thou goest?" Frona nodded. "And Tenas Hee-Hee goest! Ai! Ai! Ai!" The tent-flap lifted, and Matt McCarthy peered in. "It's yerself, Frona, is it? With breakfast waitin' this half-hour on ye, an' old Andy fumin' an' frettin' like the old woman he is. Good-mornin' to ye, Neepoosa," he addressed Frona's companions, "an' to ye, Muskim, though, belike ye've little mimory iv me face."
"Oh, 'e 'as!" said the Virgin. "Then you sing. I am sure you do." She smiled into the Virgin's eyes, and that lady delivered herself of a coster ballad with more art than she was aware. The chill of Frona's advent was quickly dissipated, and song and toast and merriment went round again.
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