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"There's a new jug of medicine or cordial come this morning from Shangois, the notary," said Lavilette. "I just happened to think of it. What he does counts. He knows a lot." Ferrol's eyes showed interest at once. "I'll try it. I'll try it. The stuff Gatineau the miller sent doesn't do any good now." "Shangois is here he's downstairs if you want to see him." Ferrol nodded. He was tired of talking.
"Hold your tongue," nervously interrupted Gatineau, for just then two or three loiterers of the parish came shambling around the corner of the mill. Baby stopped short, and as they greeted the newcomers their attention was drawn to the stage-coach from St. Croix coming over the little hill near by. "Here's M'sieu' Nic now and who's with him?" said Baby, stepping about nervously in his excitement.
"Took us a whole day to run their stuff over t' th' camp, 'n' it only a mile across th' lake from th' landin'; 'n' when night come we was 's near dead beat 's if we'd been portagin' a man's load apiece on a tump-line 'n' that's a tub o' pork 'n' a sack 'o flour weighin' two hundred and seventy five pounds over every portage 'tween Pointe a Gatineau 'n' th' Baskatong.
His reference to the course of the Gatineau makes no sense, and Laverdiere has had recourse to the not improbable conjecture that the printer dropped out a whole line at this point. Champlain also over-estimates considerably the height of the Rideau Falls and is not very exact in his calculation of latitude.
"It wasn't cards the quarrel, not the real quarrel. Greevy found Clint kissing her. Greevy wanted her to marry Gatineau, the lumber-king. That was the quarrel." A snarl was on the face of Buckmaster. "Then she'll not be sorry when I git him. It took Clint from her as well as from me." He turned to the door again.
We started in runnin' th' hounds, 'n' brother 'n' me had the best on th' Gatineau Frank 'n' Loud, 'n' old Blue, 'n' Spot dogs that can scent a deer trail 's far 's Erne Moore can smell supper cookin', 'n' that 's far from home 's Le Blanc farm his father used to own, over Kagama way, 'bout eight miles from Pickanock, where he lives.
"How do you know?" asked Gatineau. "How do I know you are a fat, cheating miller?" replied the postmaster, with cunning care and a touch of malice. Malice was the only power Baby knew. In the matter of power, Baby, the inquisitive postmaster and keeper of the bridge, was unlike the new arrival in Bonaventure.
He did not see the Lynx but saw the tracks. The same old-timer is authority for a case in which the tables were turned. A Desert Indian on the headwaters of the Gatineau went out in the early spring looking for Beaver. At a well-known pond he saw a Lynx crouching on a log, watching the Beaver hole in the ice. The Indian waited.
"Magon was at the Laval College in Quebec; he has ten thousand dollars; he is the best judge of horses in the province, and he's a Member of Parliament to boot," said the miller, puffing. "He is a great man almost." "He's no better judge of horses than M'sieu' Nic Lavilette eh, that's a bully bad scamp, my Gatineau!" responded Baby. "He's the best in the family. He is a grand sport; yes.
Gatineau the miller, and Baby the keeper of the bridge, gave their own reasons for the renewed progress of the Lavilettes. They met in conference at the mill on the eve of the marriage of Sophie Lavilette to Magon Farcinelle, farrier, farmer and member of the provincial legislature, whose house lay behind the piece of maple wood, a mile or so to the right of the Lavilettes' farmhouse.
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