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Updated: June 24, 2025
He had told Pierrot that when the latter was his father-in-law, he would pay him double price for furs. And Pierrot had stared had stared with that strange, stunned look in his face, like a man dazed by a blow from a club. And so if he did not get Nepeese without trouble it would all be Pierrot's fault. Tomorrow McTaggart would start again for the half-breed's country.
Not a ray of sense was yet in the half-breed's eyes. An imaginary, vengeance-dealing Herb was before him; but he never turned a glance towards the real, and now forgiving, old chum, who leaned against the wall not ten feet away. His voice dropped to a guttural rumble, in which Indian sounds mingled with English. But the flame at Herb's heart was quenched at the first whimpered word.
This was not long; for the half-breed's words suggested that he felt near to the great change he roughly called "keeling over," when he started to find his cheated partner.
An', besides, it pulls hard." Jacques was deliberately refilling the magazine, but so intent was Creed in picking out fancied defects in the other's weapon that he failed to notice that the cartridges which were being placed in his own rifle had had their bullets carefully drawn, while his original cartridges reposed snugly in the pocket of the half-breed's mackinaw.
Bob, absolutely honest and guileless himself, in spite of Dick's constant assertion that Micmac was a thief and worse, was easily deceived by the half-breed's bland manner. Unfortunately he had not learned that every one else was not as honest and straightforward as himself. Micmac's attempt upon his life he had ascribed to a sudden burst of anger, and it was forgiven and forgotten.
Safely beyond that, no one could see him from the windows of the hospital. He walked swiftly. Twenty paces, thirty, forty and he stopped as suddenly as the half-breed's bullet had stopped him weeks before. Round the end of Cardigan's fuel house came a figure. It was Mercer. He was twirling his little cane and traveling quietly as a cat. They were not ten feet apart, yet Kent had not heard him.
She smiled fondly, but the smile slowly faded, for in her mind at that moment was a doubt a vague, elusive doubt, that rested upon the slender fabric of a half-breed's fireside tale. Somewhere in the wild country was another girl a girl who was beautiful and who loved this man her man.
At the first indication of the approach of winter he had come to old McKay with that peculiarly mild, humble, deprecatory expression of countenance with which he was wont to preface an appeal for assistance of some sort. "What iss it you will be wantin' now?" demanded the old man, rather testily, for he had an aversion to the half-breed's sneaking ways.
The wind had died away, and it was snowing. In the silence he stood and listened, his eyes trying to find some moving shadow in the gloom. His fighting blood was up. His one impulse now was to come face to face with Jean Croisset and demand an explanation. He knew that if he had stood another moment with his back to the window Jean would have killed him. Murder was in the half-breed's eyes.
Jan knew how the Great Spirit had once appeared to Mukee, and how a white mist, like a snow-veil, had come between the half-breed's eyes and the wondrous Thing he beheld. That same veil drifted between Jan and the girl.
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