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Wasn't it funny? But of course she supposed it was all right. Mrs. Kilrea called on old Mrs. Follansbee, who told Mrs. McIntosh. This lady was a Cree Indian that had become more or less civilized. The white women would speak to her on account of her husband Aleck, who was really a very nice man.
He lashed his dogs on again, while Pat cracked his whip and the party went on. Mrs. Kilrea was looking rather horrified, thought Sophy McGurn. Her turn was coming at last. There would be a scene that would repay her for her trouble, she gleefully decided.
There was a strong team of horses used to lumbering that could be trusted to manage the old tote-road, drawing Sam Kerrigan's big sleigh. "Hosses used ter do it," asserted the latter, "and they kin do it again." "Maybe Stefan'd take you up with them dogs of his, Kilrea," suggested one of the men, grinning. "No! And by the way, byes. Ye don't want ter let that there Swede know nothin' of this.
"Mistaken, was it?" asked Pat Kilrea. "Folks ain't got any right to be mistaken when it comes to accusin' others of murder. If you hadn't had some reason to speak that way ye'd have kept yer mouth shut, I'm thinking. Why don't ye come right out with it?" "I I didn't really mean anything by it," stammered Sophy again. "What revenge was that you was referring to?" he persisted.
Sophy turned to the boxes of plug that were stored on the shelves and pretended to busy herself with their order and symmetry. But she was again listening, eagerly. "What d'ye say, Stefan?" joined Pat Kilrea. "How'd she stand the trip? Did ye see if her nose was still on her face when ye got there?" "I tank so," opened Stefan, gravely, "but it wouldn't matter so much vith de leddy.
"Is that fellow Ennis over to his shack?" asked McIntosh, the squaw-man. "Uh huh," repeated the settler. "D'ye happen to know whether there's a a young 'ooman there too?" "Vat you vant wid dat gal?" asked Papineau this time. "We're just goin' visitin', like," Pat Kilrea informed him. "It's sure a fine day for a ride in the country.
And now they had all been driven away, and that girl had stood and spoken as if she had some right to be there, and had been indignant at any inquiry into her motives for coming to Roaring River. Worse than all Pat Kilrea and his wife seemed to have turned against her, after absolving the two of blame. She shrank back, drawing her fur cap further down over her eyes and ears.
As Pat Kilrea suffered from the handicap of having been born with a club-foot, which didn't prevent him from being an excellent man with machinery but made walking rather burdensome for him, the others guffawed again while the Swede opened the door and walked off, the crusted snow crackling under his big feet.
She can tell us how it came about, anyways, seems to me, and we can judge if it sounds sensible and correct like." "That's right," put in Kilrea. "That's fair and proper." "I am perfectly willing to tell you all I know about it," asserted Madge, quietly. "I I came here to see Mr. Ennis on a matter that that concerns us only. And I had occasion to open my bag.
"Stefan he's so all-fired big he got to keep a chew on each side of his face," explained Pat Kilrea, a first-rate mechanic who was then busy with the construction of a little steamer that was to help tow down to the mill some big booms of logs, as soon as the lake opened. "He ain't able to get no satisfaction except from double action."
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