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Updated: June 22, 2025
His smiling face became transformed with fury, his black eyes gleamed with the cunning malignity of the savage, he shed his soft Scotch voice with his genial manner, the very movements of his body became those of his Cree progenitors. Uttering hoarse guttural cries, with the quick crouching run of the Indian on the trail of his foe, he chased Kalman through the bluffs.
Irma stood, letter in hand, her heart in a tumult of joy, not because it was the first letter she had ever received in her life, but because the letter was from Kalman. She had one passion, love for her brother. For him she held a strangely mingled affection of mother, sister, lover, all in one. By day she thought of him, at night he filled her dreams.
But Jack rode close to her, talking bright nothings till she could smile again. "Oh, Jack, but you are the dear!" she said to him as they galloped together up the trail, Mr. Penny following behind. "I'll mind this to you." But before they took the descent to the Night Hawk ravine, they heard a thunder of hoofs, and wheeling, found Kalman bearing down upon them.
On such occasions life would be to Kalman one long agony of anxiety. Through the summer he bore his grief in silence, never speaking of it even to Brown; but on one occasion, when French's absence had been extended from one Sunday to the next, his anxiety and grief became unsupportable, and he poured it forth to Brown. "He has not been home for a week, Mr. Brown, and oh!
He was condemned to death by a righteous tribunal. He has met his just doom. God is just. I meet Him without fear for this. For my sins, which are many, I trust His mercy." "My father," said Kalman, "you are right. I believe you. And God is merciful. Christ is merciful." As he spoke, he leaned over, and wiping from his father's face the tears that fell upon it, he kissed him on the forehead.
With the same wild cry, and this time with a knife open in his hand, he sprang at his hated enemy, stabbing quick, fierce stabs. But this time Rosenblatt was ready. Taking the boy's stabs on his arm, he struck the boy a terrific blow on the neck. As Kalman fell, he clutched and hung to his foe, who, seizing him by the throat, dragged him swiftly toward the door.
"No," said Brown, "let me read it to you, Kalman. You are not singing the words, you are singing the notes. Now listen, 'The golden evening brightens in the west; Soon, soon, to faithful warriors comes their rest; Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest. Hallelujah! There it is. Do you see it?" The boy nodded. "Now then, sing," said Brown.
"Shrink from you!" she cried in scorn. "Were I Russian, I should be like your father!" "Now God be thanked!" cried Kalman. "That fear is gone. I fear nothing else. Ah, how brave you are, sweetheart!" "Stop, Kalman! Man, man, you are terrible. Let me go! They are coming!" "Hello there! Steady all." It was Brown's voice. "Now, then, what's this?"
Rosenblatt, with whom the preacher went home to dine, and to whom, under the mellowing influence of a third bottle, he imparted full and valuable information in regard to Wakota, its possibilities as a business centre, its railroad prospects, its land values, its timber limits, and especially in regard to the character and work of Kalman Kalmar, and the wonderful mine which the young man had discovered.
I can't stand it any longer," cried the distracted boy. "I can't stay here while Jack is over there in such a terrible way. I must go to him." "He won't like it, Kalman," said Brown; "he won't stand it, I am afraid. I would go, but I know it would only offend him." "I am going down to the Crossing to-day," said Kalman. "I don't care if he kills me, I must go."
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