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Updated: May 1, 2025
Slowly Lapierre bent backward, forced by the heavier body of MacNair. MacNair released his grip on the other's wrist, but his right hand still held Lapierre's gun. A huge forearm slid up the quarter-breed's chest and came to rest under the chin, while the man beat frantically with his two fists against MacNair's shoulders and ribs.
She regarded him searchingly, but the simple directness of his gaze caused her own eyes to falter, and she turned into the house with a deep breath that was very like a sigh. The sense of elation and self-confidence inspired by Lapierre's first words ebbed as it had ebbed before the unspoken rebuke of Big Lena, leaving her strangely depressed.
The man also proudly displayed a bleeding scalp which he had ripped from the head of one of Lapierre's scouts who had blundered upon the old man as he lay concealed behind a snow-covered log. The sight of the grewsome trophy with its long black hair and blood-dripping flesh excited the Indians to a fever pitch.
The few cabins which had escaped the conflagration had been pre-empted by the first-comers, while the later arrivals pitched their tents and shelter tarps close against the logs of the unburned portion of MacNair's stockade. At the time of Lapierre's arrival the colony had assumed the aspect of a typical gold camp.
So well did the half-breed execute the order that upon MacNair's arrival at the store-house he found LeFroy not only supplying provisions with a lavish hand, but taking huge delight in passing out to the waiting Indians Lapierre's Mauser rifles and ammunition.
She leaned far forward and, pointing directly into the face of the man, opened her lips to speak. It was then Lapierre's gaze wavered, for in that moment he realized that for him the game was lost. With a half-smothered curse he leaped to his feet, overturning his chair, which banged sharply upon the plank floor.
Lapierre would join them at supper, she found the two women busily engaged in the final preparation of the meal. Big Lena passed into the dining-room, which was also the living-room, and without deigning to notice Lapierre's presence, proceeded to lay the table for supper.
A few had rebelled, as Vermilion had rebelled and with like result. The man dismissed from Lapierre's service entered no other. Moreover, he invariably contrived to implicate one whom he intended to use, in some crime of a graver nature than he would be called upon to commit in the general run of his duties.
Now and again plans did miscarry arrests were made by the Mounted, men were caught "with the goods," or arrested upon evidence that even Lapierre's intricate alibi scheme could not refute. But, upon conviction, the unlucky prisoner always accepted his sentence for at his shoulder stalked a spectre, and in his heart was the fear lest the thin lips of Pierre Lapierre would speak.
If Chloe was surprised at this bit of information, she succeeded admirably in disguising her feelings. Not so Harriet Penny, who sank back among the freight pieces to stare fearfully into the face of the younger woman. "Then you are Pierre Lapierre's man? You work for him?" The man nodded. "On de reevaire I'm run de scow me Vermilion! I'm tak' de reesk. Lapierre, she tak' de money."
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