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"I have never seen a great storm in a forest before," answered Charley, and came nearer to the window through which the bright sun streamed. "It always does me good," said Jo. "Every bird and beast is awake and afraid and trying to hide, and the trees fall, and the roar of it like the roar of the chasse-galerie on the Kimash River." "The Kimash River where is it?" Jo shrugged his shoulders.
Thou hast become great with a great race, and that is well. Our race is not great, and shall not be, until the hour when the Mighty Men of the Kimash Hills arise from their sleep and possess the land again. Thou art gone.
They had travelled inland from the coast through the great mountains by unknown paths, and as they travelled, the sailor died; and they came at last through innumerable hardships to the Kimash Hills, the hills of the Mighty Men, and there they stayed. It was not an evil land; it had neither deadly cold in winter nor wanton heat in summer.
You buy a lot of Indian or halfbreed loafers with beaver-skins and rum, go to the Mount of the Burning Arrows, and these fellows dance round you and call you one of the lost race, the Mighty Men of the Kimash Hills. And they'll do that while the rum lasts. Meanwhile you get to think yourself a devil of a swell you and the gods!... And now we had better listen to this bungowawen, hadn't we?"
"Who knows!" "Is it a legend, then?" "It is a river." "And the chasse-galerie?" "That is true, M'sieu', no matter what any one thinks. I know; I have seen I have seen with my own eyes." Jo was excited now. "I am listening." He took a cup of tea from Portugais and drank eagerly. "The Kimash River, M'sieu', that is the river in the air. On it is the chasse-galerie.
Thou hast become great with a great race, and that is well. Our race is not great, and shall not be, until the hour when the Mighty Men of the Kimash Hills arise from their sleep and possess the land again. Thou art gone.
When he married sweet Lucette Barbond his religion reached little farther than a belief in the Scarlet Hunter of the Kimash Hills and those voices that could be heard calling in the night, till their time of sleep be past, and they should rise and reconquer the north. Not even Father Corraine, whose ways were like those of his Master, could ever bring him to a more definite faith.
They had travelled inland from the coast through the great mountains by unknown paths, and as they travelled, the sailor died; and they came at last through innumerable hardships to the Kimash Hills, the hills of the Mighty Men, and there they stayed. It was not an evil land; it had neither deadly cold in winter nor wanton heat in summer.
"What will my father Athabasca do?" she asked. "With idleness the flesh grows soft, and the iron melts from the arm." "But when the thoughts are stone, the body is as that of the Mighty Men of the Kimash Hills. When the bow is long drawn, beware the arrow." "It is no answer," she said: "what will my father do?" "They were of gold," he answered, "that never grew rusty.
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