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Updated: June 14, 2025
"Shag Larocque read that address!" yelled Simpson from the hall; "not if I know it! He's not a decent sport, even he won't resent an insult. I called him a Red River halfbreed and he never said a word just swallowed it!" "Shut that door!" shouted Hal, the color surging into his face, "and shut yourselves on the outside!
No Indian's going to be head of this school, and Shag Larocque isn't even a decent Indian, he's a halfbreed, a French halfbreed, he's "
"Not the Indians we're after," said I, noting the signs of permanency; but Paul Larocque shoved me forward with the end of his pole and a curious, almost intelligent, expression came on the dull, pock-pitted face. Strangely enough, as I looked over my shoulder to the guide, I caught sight of an Indian figure climbing up the bank in our very tracks.
As Cop finished speaking the chapel bell sounded and all four boys scrambled down to prayers. As they entered the little sanctuary, one of the masters standing irresolute near the door, beckoned to Cop. "Billings," he whispered, "Will you please go and ask Larocque if he cares to come to prayers? He's in room 17; you met him this morning, I believe."
Ma'ame Baptiste Larocque peered again into her cupboard and her flour barrel, as though she might have been mistaken in her inspection twenty minutes earlier. "No, there is nothing, nothing at all!" said she to her old mother-in-law. "And no more trust at the store. Monsieur Conolly was too cross when I went for corn-meal yesterday. For sure, Baptiste stays very long at the shanty this year."
He recognized the voice of Larocque, who at dawn had returned to his sentinel's post on the summit of the headland, relieving the man who had replaced him there during the night. "My lord! My lord!" was the cry, in a voice shaken by excitement, and succeeded by a shouting chorus from the crew. Sakr-el-Bahr turned swiftly to the entrance, whisked aside the curtain, and stepped out upon the poop.
The party was just about the right size; two of the little boys who lived at the Pacific coast were asked, then Shorty and Cop and little chunky Johnny Miller and Shag Larocque seven all told, including Hal, and eight, counting the Professor, who, on the first night in camp said, a little gravely, "Hal, my boy, it is a great privilege to be the son of a wealthy man.
"She'll need be a stout vessel to hazard herself in Spanish waters." Sakr-el-Bahr advanced to the rail. "Does she display no further device?" he asked. Larocque turned at the question. "Ay," he answered, "a narrow blue pennant on her mizzen is charged with a white bird a stork, I think." "A stork?" echoed Sakr-el-Bahr thoughtfully.
Shag almost trembled with pleasure, but his delight knew no bounds when a week after their return to school he received a little copy of the photograph framed in silver and inscribed on the back with "To Shagganappi Larocque, with love from Hal's mother." "I don't know why you and your people are so good to me," he declared to Hal, when they both had duly admired the little picture.
There was a little story about Sir George, well-known in the Red River Valley; Trapper Larocque knew it, the Hudson's Bay Company knew it, Shag knew it, and was asking himself if Hal knew it. Then the boy from Manitoba took the story and locked it within his heart, sealed his lips above it, and said to his soul, "Hal Bennington won't know it from me, nor will anyone else.
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