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Updated: June 22, 2025
For they seem to be even more drunk than usual. It is MacNair's way to make them drunk while he looks on and laughs." "Do you mean," cried the girl in horror, "that they are drunk?" Lapierre smiled. "Very drunk," he answered dryly. "It is the only way MacNair can hold them by allowing them free license at frequent intervals.
You have listened to Lapierre and you have easily become his dupe. There is no Indian in his employ who would not kill me. They have had their orders. Have you stopped to reflect that the brave Lapierre did not himself remain to stem this attack? To protect me from my Indians?" The sneer in MacNair's voice was not lost upon the girl, who drew herself up haughtily. "Mr.
The thin lips of the man had twisted into a snarl of rage, and a living, bestial hate seemed fairly to blaze from the smouldering eyes, as Lapierre's thoughts dwelt upon the closing moments of that fight, when he felt himself giving ground before the hammering, smashing blows of Bob MacNair's big fists.
Suddenly she remembered the words of Corporal Ripley, when he asked her to withdraw the charge of murder against MacNair: "In the North we know something of MacNair's work." And again: "We know the North needs men like MacNair." Could it be possible that after all with the thought there flashed into the girl's mind the scene on Snare Lake.
Chloe leaned toward him eagerly and placed a hand upon his arm, while her eyes seemed to search his very thoughts. "Then you will go with me to Snare Lake to carry our war into the heart of the enemy's country?" "To Snare Lake!" gasped the man. "Yes, to Snare Lake. I shall never rest now until MacNair's power over these poor savages is broken forever.
He drew Elk MacNair's ear to his lips, and said feebly, and with his latest articulate breath, "General, you owe me two years' interest!" They laid Jabel Blake away by his fathers, and on the day of the funeral Ross Valley was crowded like a shrine. The din of the day is quiet now, and the street is deserted. The last bacchanal reeled homeward an hour ago.
And at midnight of the second day they dashed across the smooth surface of the lake and brought up with a rush before the door of MacNair's own cabin, which luckily had been spared by the flames. It was a record drive, for a "two-man" load that drive of Wee Johnnie Tamarack's, having clipped twelve hours from a thirty-six-hour trail. MacNair's door flew open to their frantic pounding.
MacNair's uncouth manner, his blunt brutality of speech, his scornful, even contemptuous reference to her work, and, most of all, his utter disregard of her, struck her to the very depths. As MacNair turned to go, she stayed him with a voice trembling with fury. "Do you imagine, for an instant, I would stoop to seek your protection? I would die first! You have had things your own way too long, Mr.
It took a half-minute for this bit of information to percolate Miss Penny's understanding, and when it did she uttered a shrill scream, banged her door, turned the key, and shot the bolt upon the inside. Alone in the living-room, the last words Chloe had spoken to her flashed through the Indian girl's mind: "I can trust you to place this in MacNair's hands."
And why had the two Indian scouts failed to report the man's coming? Only one of the Indians had returned at all, and his report that the other had been killed by one of MacNair's retainers had seemed unconvincing. However, Lapierre had accepted the story, but all through the days of the building he had secretly watched him. The man was one of his trusted Indians so was the one he reported killed.
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