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Shon McGann was a fine fool, but he did something at last, truly yes: Tim Macavoy, perhaps, will do something at last on his own hook. Hey, I wonder!" He felt the muscles of Macavoy's arm musingly, and then laughed up in the giant's face. "Once I made you a king, my own, and you threw it all away; now I make you a slave, and we shall see what you will do. Come along, for M'sieu' Tarlton."
But their wiliness was useless, for Macavoy's double-and-twist came near to lessening the Indian population of Fort O'Angel. It only broke a leg and an arm, however. The Irishman came out of the tangle of battle with a wild kind of light in his eye, his beard all torn, and face battered. A shout of laughter, admiration and wonder went up from the crowd.
"You're a wonderful fool," he said, "but I'm not sure that I like you less for that. There was Shon M'Gann but it is no matter." He sighed and continued: "When to-night is over, you shall have work and fun that you've been fattening for this many a year, and the woman'll not find you, be sure of that. Besides " he whispered in Macavoy's ear.
Pierre was leaning against a door smoking, not far away. Macavoy's voice became louder. "'Stand them up wan by wan, says I, 'and give me a leg loose, and a fist free; and at that " "At that there was thunder and fire in the sky, and because the great Macavoy blew his breath over them they withered like the leaves," cried Wonta, laughing; but her laugh had an edge.
He could hear of battle, murder, and sudden death unmoved it seemed to him in the game; but the tragedy of a child, a mere counter yet in the play of life that was different. He slid a hand over the table, and caught Macavoy's arm. "Poor little waif!" he said. Macavoy gave the hand a grasp that turned Pierre sick, and asked: "Had ye iver a child av y'r own, Pierre-iver wan at all?"
I want my gift, and I will give you your paper with the Queen's head on it. Those little lives, those pretty little dears, you will not see them die. If there is a way, any way, you will save them. Sometimes one man can do what twenty cannot. You were my wedding-gift: I claim you now." She paused, and then motioned to the nurse, who laid the piece of brown paper in Macavoy's hand.
So far Pierre's plan had worked even better than he expected, though Macavoy's moods had not been altogether after his imaginings. He drew alongside the giant, who had suddenly grown quiet again. Macavoy turned and looked down at Pierre with the candour of a schoolboy, and his voice was very low: "It's a long time ago, I'm thinkin'," he said, "since I lost me frinds ages an' ages ago.
"Not more than two at a time, was it?" "That was it. I don't know that it's what we bargained for, after all." He looked round on the other settlers present, who had been awed by the childlike, earnest note in Macavoy's last words. They shook their heads now a little sagely; they weren't so sure that Pierre's little game was so jovial as it had promised.
Macavoy's rich voice roared as of old, before his valour was questioned and maintained at Fort O'Angel.
She and Pierre had seen a serious side to Macavoy's gift: the childlike manliness in it. It went home to her woman's heart without a touch of ludicrousness, without a sound of laughter. After a time the interest in this wedding-gift declined at Fort Guidon, and but three people remembered it with any singular distinctness Ida, Pierre, and Macavoy.
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