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But Grah was not lonely, nor did he hunger. He blew his bubbles, and muttered of a wind whereon a useless thing a film of water, a butterfly, or a fool might ride beyond the reach of spirit, or man, or heathen. His flesh remained the same, and grew not less; but that of Pierre wasted, and his eye grew darker with suffering. For man is only man, and hunger is a cruel thing.
Whip in the dogs, Baptiste, and be ready all of you at midnight." "And Grah the Idiot what of him?" asked Pretty Pierre. "He'll have to take his chance. If he can travel with us, so much the better for him"; and the Factor shrugged his shoulders. "If not, so much the worse, eh?" returned Pretty Pierre. "Work the sum out to suit yourself. We've got our necks to save.
You had betther keep a soft tongue in your head, an' a civil one, in the mane time. Why did the divil timpt you to take a fancy to me at all?" "That's it. Throw the grah an' love I once had for you in my teeth, now. It's a manly thing for you to do, an' you may be proud, of it. Dear knows, it would be betther for me I had fell in consate wid any face but yours." "I wish to goodness you had!
God'll have to help the Idiot if we can't." "You hear, Grah Hamon, Idiot," said Pierre an hour afterwards, "we're going to leave Fort o' God and make for Rupert House.
But Grah was not lonely, nor did he hunger. He blew his bubbles, and muttered of a wind whereon a useless thing a film of water, a butterfly, or a fool might ride beyond the reach of spirit, or man, or heathen. His flesh remained the same, and grew not less; but that of Pierre wasted, and his eye grew darker with suffering. For man is only man, and hunger is a cruel thing.
Pierre watched them for a time; and, seeing that they made no further move, retired into the store, where the Idiot muttered and was happy after his kind. "Grah got pipe blow away blow away to Annie pretty soon." "Yes, Grah, there's chance enough that you'll blow away to Annie pretty soon," remarked the other.
Pretty Pierre bent over and said slowly: "If you stay here, Grah, the Indian get your scalp; if you go, the snow is deep and the frost is like a badger's tooth, and you can't be carried." "Oh, Oh! my mother dead poor Annie by God, Grah want pipe poor Grah sleep in snow-bubble, bubble Oh, Oh! the long wind, fly away."
"Oh, I know it I know it! There was music in his voice, an' grah and. kindness to every crathur on God's earth; but to me to me oh, no one knew his love to me, but myself an' God. Oh, if I was dead, that I couldn't feel this, or if my life could save his!
"I think I always did a little, from the time you stayed with Grah the idiot at Fort o' God, and fought the Indians when the others left. Only men said bad things of you, and my father did not like you, and you spoke so little to me ever. Yet I mind how you used to sit and watch me, and I also mind when you rode the man down who stole my pony, and brought them both back."
"But you see," said Pierre, "the Caliban stays at Fort o' God." "You've got a Christian heart in you, so help me, Heaven!" replied the other. "No, sir, we give him a chance, and his Maker too for that matter, to show what He's willing to do for His misfits." Pretty Pierre rejoined, "Well, I have thought. The game is all against Grah if he go; but there are two who stay at Fort o' God."
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