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He pulled forward the loose skin on the puma's breast and showed them the scar of a knife-wound above the one his own knife had made. "I've got the other murderer," he said; "Gordineer's knife went in here. Sacre, but it is good!" Pourcette's flesh needed little medicine; he did not feel his pain and stiffness.
"'Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" said Pretty Pierre, piteously. The face of the Honourable was set and tense. Jo Gordineer's hand clutched his throat as if he choked. Still Shon sped. It was a matter of seconds only. The tragedy crowded to the awful end. But, no. There was a tilt in the glacier, and the gold-pan, suddenly swirling, again swung to the outer edge, and shot over.
He chuckled to himself noiselessly, and said in a whisper "Twenty grizzlies, and fifty pumas!" Then he rubbed his hands softly on his knees, and spoke aloud again: "Ici, I was proud of him. We were standing together on a ledge of rock. Gawdor was not far away. Gawdor was a poor hunter, and I knew he was wild at Gordineer's great luck.... A splendid bull-wapiti come out on a rock across the gully.
On the morning they left, he took Jo Gordineer's cup from the shelf, and from a hidden place brought out a flask half filled with liquor. He poured out a little in the cup gravely, and handed it to Lawless, but Lawless gave it back to him. "You must drink from it," he said, "not me." He held out the cup of his own flask.
He chuckled to himself noiselessly, and said in a whisper "Twenty grizzlies, and fifty pumas!" Then he rubbed his hands softly on his knees, and spoke aloud again: "Ici, I was proud of him. We were standing together on a ledge of rock. Gawdor was not far away. Gawdor was a poor hunter, and I knew he was wild at Gordineer's great luck.... A splendid bull-wapiti come out on a rock across the gully.
Gordineer's hand was steady; his nerve was all right. I have seen him stand still till a grizzly come within twice the length of his gun. Then he would twist his mouth, and fire into the mortal spot. Once we were out in the Wide Wing pass. We had never had such a day. Gordineer make grand shots, better than my own; and men have said I can shoot like the devil ha! ha!"
He pulled forward the loose skin on the puma's breast and showed them the scar of a knife-wound above the one his own knife had made. "I've got the other murderer," he said; "Gordineer's knife went in here. Sacre, but it is good!" Pourcette's flesh needed little medicine; he did not feel his pain and stiffness.
On the morning they left, he took Jo Gordineer's cup from the shelf, and from a hidden place brought out a flask half filled with liquor. He poured out a little in the cup gravely, and handed it to Lawless, but Lawless gave it back to him. "You must drink from it," he said, "not me." He held out the cup of his own flask.
"'Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!" said Pretty Pierre, piteously. The face of the Honourable was set and tense. Jo Gordineer's hand clutched his throat as if he choked. Still Shon sped. It was a matter of seconds only. The tragedy crowded to the awful end. But, no. There was a tilt in the glacier, and the gold-pan, suddenly swirling, again swung to the outer edge, and shot over.
Gordineer's hand was steady; his nerve was all right. I have seen him stand still till a grizzly come within twice the length of his gun. Then he would twist his mouth, and fire into the mortal spot. Once we were out in the Wide Wing pass. We had never had such a day. Gordineer make grand shots, better than my own; and men have said I can shoot like the devil ha! ha!"
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