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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Pretty soon, I t'ink, the people not listen to him no more. They are mad. This year there will be trouble about the grain. Gaviller put the price down to dollar-fifty bushel. But he sell flour the same." "Do you mean to say he buys your grain at his own price, and sells you back the flour at his own price?" demanded Ambrose. Tole nodded. "My fat'er the first farmer here," he explained.
More than once they were near an upset, as when they began to talk of Indians. Ambrose had related the anecdote of Tom Beavertail who, upon seeing a steamboat for the first time, had made a paddle-wheel for his canoe, and forced his sons to turn him about the lake. "Exactly like them!" said John Gaviller with his air of amused scorn. "Ingenious in perfectly useless ways!
Every Saturday night Michel tell it at the store. And John Gaviller give him two dollars of tobacco, the best. I guess Michel is glad the trader's daughter save him. Old man proud, lak he is save Michel himself!" Poly Goussard, having smoked the cigar to within half an inch of his lips, regretfully threw the half inch out the door. He paused, and coughed suggestively.
Even from where they were, a glance at the huddled figure was enough to tell the truth. None of the others would hear of Strange's going. Colina and Giddings pleaded with him. Gaviller forbade him. Strange with seeming reluctance finally gave in. Whenever he witnessed such evidences of their trust in the half-breed Ambrose's lip curled in the darkness.
Poly paragraphed his story with luxurious puffs at the cigar and careful attention to keep it burning evenly. "So on Tuesday after Easter they go out toget'er. Colina Gaviller ride on the sledge and Michel he break trail ahead. Come to the bench, leave the dogs in a shelter Michel build in a poplar bluff. Michel go to see his traps, and Colina walk away on her snowshoes wit' her little gun.
Ambrose refused to be silenced. Looking around the luxurious room he felt inclined to remark, that Gaviller had made a pretty good thing out of the despised race, but he checked himself. "Sometimes I think we never give them a show," he said with a deprecating air, "We're always trying to cut them to our own pattern instead of taking them as they are. They are like schoolboys, as you say.
Ambrose concealed a grim smile at this partial view of John Gaviller. "He lies there so white and still," she went on. "It nearly breaks my heart to think how I have quarreled with him and gone against his wishes. If waiting on him day and night will ever make it up to him, I'll do it!" Ambrose's breast stirred a little with resentment, but he kept his mouth shut.
"What do we wait for, un miracle? Do we wait for Gaviller's heart to soften? We wait a long tam for that I fink, me! While we wait I think Gaviller get busy. He say he come and cut our grain. Will we wait and let him?" The old man interrupted here: "If Gaviller put his men on our land we fight," he said. "Aha!" cried Jean Bateese. "He will not wait then.
Stepping over Ambrose he crossed to the mantel, where he fumbled for matches, and striking one made believe to relight his pipe. Now Ambrose knew that Strange had matches, for when they took John Gaviller up he had seen him light the lamp at the foot of the stairs and return the box to his pocket. This then must be a reconnoitering expedition.
"I have never seen Miss Gaviller before this moment. I have no inkling of the nature of her evidence. Left to myself, I should ask for an adjournment; surely we are entitled to it. But my client insists on going ahead. My lord" his voice shook a little "none but an innocent man could be so rash!" "Never mind that," rebuked the judge. He was distinctly nettled by the upset of court decorum.
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