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Updated: May 10, 2025
Then he turned to Halby: "You're a magistrate make me a special constable; I'll go, monsieur le capitaine of no company." Halby stared. He knew Pierre's bravery, his ingenuity and daring. But this was the last thing he expected: that the malicious, railing little half-breed would work with him and the law. Pierre seemed to understand his thoughts, for he said: "It is not for you.
See: you go for law and love; I go for fun and Jimmy Throng. The girl? Pshaw! she would come out right in the end, without you or me. But the old man with half a lung that's different. He must have sweet bread in his belly when he dies, and the girl must make it for him. She shall brush her hair with the ivory brush by Sunday morning." Halby turned sharply. "You've been spying," he said.
He could not help the touch of irony in his last words: he saw the amusing side of things, and all humour in him had a strain of the sardonic. "Brothers-in-law for a day or two," answered Halby drily. Within two hours they were ready to start.
He could not help the touch of irony in his last words: he saw the amusing side of things, and all humour in him had a strain of the sardonic. "Brothers-in-law for a day or two," answered Halby drily. Within two hours they were ready to start.
Halby, with one foot on a bench, was picking at the fur on his sleeve thoughtfully. His face was a little drawn, his lips were tight-pressed, and his eyes had a light of excitement. Presently he straightened himself, and, after a half-malicious look at Pierre, he said to Throng: "Where are they, do you say?" "They're at" the old man coughed hard "at Fort O'Battle." "What are they doing there?"
He turned, came to the door, softly opened it, passed out, and shut it, then descended the stairs, and in half an hour was at the door with Captain Halby, ready to start. It was an exquisite winter day, even in its bitter coldness. The sun was shining clear and strong, all the plains glistened and shook like quicksilver, and the vast blue cup of sky seemed deeper than it had ever been.
"So-so?" he said, "'C. H. M'sieu' le capitaine, is it like that?" A year before, Lydia had given Captain Halby a dollar to buy her a hair-brush at Winnipeg, and he had brought her one worth ten dollars. She had beautiful hair, and what pride she had in using this brush!
Get on your knees to Father Corraine, not to Captain Halby, Jimmy Throng." Pierre spoke in a half-sinister, ironical way, for between him and Captain Halby's Riders of the Plains there was no good feeling. More than once he had come into conflict with them, more than once had they laid their hands on him and taken them off again in due time.
Halby hesitated, then said, holding out his hand, "Yes, if it's nothing dirty." Pierre smiled. "Clean tit for clean tat," he said, touching Halby's fingers, and then, with a gesture and an au revoir, put his horse to the canter, and soon a surf of snow was rising at two points on the prairie, as the Law trailed south and east.
It is hard to say whether he was merely working on Halby that he be true to the girl, or was himself softhearted for the moment. He had a curious store of legend and chanson, and he had the Frenchman's power of applying them, though he did it seldom. But now he said in a half monotone: "Have you seen the way I have built my nest?
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