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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Who was he?" Joe asked. Mahooley shrugged. "Search me! Long before my time." "If old Musq'oosis is no relation, what does he hang around for?" asked the first questioner. "Oh, he's always kind of looked after her," said Mahooley. "The other Indians hate her. They think she's too uppish." "She feeds him; I guess that's reason enough for him to stick around," remarked Mattison.
As in every party of men, there was an obsequious element that encouraged Joe with flattery. Among the sturdier spirits, however, Big Jack, Mahooley, Coulson, an honest resentment developed. In particular they objected to Joe's changed air toward Bela. He was not openly insulting to her, but into his voice had crept a peremptory note apparent to every ear.
Here Stiffy spoke up from his cubby-hole: "Hell! Musq'oosis don't need anybody to feed him. He's well fixed. Got a first-class credit balance." Joe, ever on the watch, saw Mahooley turn his head abruptly and scowl at his partner. Stiffy closed his mouth suddenly. Joe, possessed by a single idea, jumped to the conclusion that Musq'oosis had something to do with the mystery he was on the track of.
That was an awful thing to happen to a good boy!" Mahooley, laughing and highly mystified, demanded: "What's the con, boys?" "Ain't you heard the story?" asked Jack with feigned surprise. "How that poor young boy was carried off by a brutal girl and kep' prisoner on an island?" "Go 'way!" cried Mahooley, delighted. "Honest to God he was!" affirmed Jack.
Nevertheless, the French outfit was a factor to be reckoned with. There was no fur going now, and the astute Stiffy and Mahooley were content to let custom pass their door. Later on they would reach out for it. Mahooley was bored and querulous. This was the dullest of dull seasons, for the natives were off pitching on their summer grounds, and travel from the outside world had not yet started.
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