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Updated: June 18, 2025
Someone had lent him the cinch of a broncho and he had belted himself with it, no longer carrying his clothes about "on the underbrush." Hilton laughed and stretched out his hand. "Come in, King," he said, "come and wish us joy." Macavoy parted the crowd easily, forcing his way, and instantly was stooping before the pair for he could not stand upright in the room.
He is a great brave. He is not afraid of a coyote, he has killed prairie-hens in numbers as pebbles by the lakes. He has a breast like a fat ox," here she touched the skin of his broad chest, "and he will die if you do not fight him." Then she drew back, as though in humble dread, and glided away with the other maidens, Macavoy staring after her, with a blustering kind of shame in his face.
As a king Macavoy was a success, for the brag had gone from him. Like all his race he had faults as a subject, but the responsibility of ruling set him right. He found in the Fort an old sword and belt, left by some Hudson's Bay Company's man, and these he furbished up and wore.
His skin seemed drawn together more firmly, and running himself up finely to his full height, he looked no longer the lounging braggart. Pierre measured him with his eye, and chuckled to himself. Macavoy stripped himself of his coat and waistcoat, and rolled up his sleeves. His shirt was flying at the chest. He beckoned to Pierre. "Are you standin' me frind in this?" he said.
Then it was that Macavoy, following Hilton and Ida outside, suddenly stopped beside the horse, drew from his pocket the promissory note that Pierre had written, and said, "Yis, but all the weddin'-gifts aren't in.
But, of course, it was only a traveller like ourselves, for in a half-hour she was with us. "Yes, it was a girl dressed as a man. She did not try to hide it; she dressed so for ease. She would make a man's heart leap in his mouth if he was like Macavoy, or the pious Mowley there."
You're a slave to come and to go, with a Queen's seal on the promissory." Macavoy leaned back and roared. "Aw, that! The rose o' the valley the joy o' the wurruld! S't, Pierre " his voice grew softer on a sudden, as a fresh thought came to him "did y' ever think that the child might be dumb like the mother?"
The strange news had gone abroad, and the settlement, laughing joyously, came to see Macavoy swagger; they did not think there would be fighting. Those whom Macavoy had challenged were not so sure. When the giant reached the open space in front of the Fort, he looked slowly round him. A great change had come over him.
Occasionally he pretended to great ferocity, but scowl he ever so much, a laugh kept idling in his irregular bushy beard, which lifted about his face in the wind like a mane, or made a kind of underbrush through which his blunt fingers ran at hide-and-seek. He was Irish, and his name was Macavoy. In later days, when Fort O'Angel was invaded by settlers, he had his time of greatest importance.
For she took to her bed, an' agin' the crowin' o' the cock wan midnight, she gives a little cry an' snatched at me beard. 'Daddy, says she, 'daddy, it hurts! An' thin she floats away, wid a stitch av pain at her lips." Macavoy sat down now, his fingers fumbling in his beard. Pierre was uncomfortable.
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