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Updated: May 1, 2025
Those who stood behind Shon McGann stared with anxious astonishment at his hand; it contained only nine and ten spots. It was easy to see the direction of the sympathy of Pipi Valley. The Irishman's face turned a slight shade paler, but he did not tremble or appear disturbed. Pierre played his biggest card and took the point. He coolly counted one, and said, "Game. I win." The crowd drew back.
He knew their legends of the White Valley and the Hills of the Mighty Men, and how their distinctive character had imposed itself on the whole Indian race of the North, so that there was none but believed, even though vaguely, in a pleasant land not south but Arcticwards; and Pierre himself, with Shon McGann and Just Trafford, had once had a strange experience in the Kimash Hills.
Shon was a short distance below, with his hand over his eyes, sweeping the semi-circle of glory. Suddenly there was a sharp cry from Pierre: "Mon Dieu! Look!" Shon McGann had fallen on a smooth pavement of ice.
The door closed, and Shon McGann was left alone with the dead. "The birds are going south, Antoine see and it is so early!" "Yes, Angelique, the winter will be long." There was a pause, and then: "Antoine, I heard a child cry in the night, and I could not sleep." "It was a devil-bird, my wife; it flies slowly, and the summer is dead."
Here the priest interposed: "What is the name of the man in Pipi Valley to whom you are going?" And the girl replied: "Ah, father, have I not told you? It is Shon McGann of Farcalladen Rise." At this, Father Corraine seemed suddenly troubled, and he looked strangely and sadly at her.
Yet, hear me I am no enemy of Shon McGann, as let my deeds to you prove. And he paused again, but added presently: 'It's better you should have come now than two years ago. "And I had a fear in my heart, and to this asked him why. 'Because then he was a friend of mine, he said, 'and ill always comes to those who are such. I was troubled at this, and asked him if Shon was in Pipi Valley yet.
"Shon McGann, it is for you to make the sign of the Cross . . . there, while I put my hand on your shoulder so!" "Your hand is heavy, Pierre." "This is the sight of the eyes that see. In the Valley there is snow; in the snow of all that was, there is one poppet-head of the mine that was called St. Gabriel . . . upon the poppet-head there is the figure of a woman." "Ah!" "She does not move "
Well, there shall be more 'Raca; soon perhaps. No, there shall not be fighting as you think, Shon; but " here Pierre rose, came over, and spread his fingers lightly on Shon's breast "but this thing is between this man and me, Shon McGann, and you shall see a great matter. Perhaps there will be blood, perhaps not perhaps only an end."
The morning was half gone when Shon McGann and Mary Callen stood beside their horses, ready to mount and go; for Mary had persisted that she could travel joy makes such marvellous healing. When the moment of parting came, Pierre was not there. Mary whispered to her lover concerning this. The priest went to the door of the but and called him. He came out slowly.
Shon McGann had been left to himself an unusual thing; for everyone had a shot at Shon when opportunity occurred; and never a bull's-eye could they make on him. His wit was like the shield of a certain personage of mythology. He had wandered on from verse to verse of the song with one eye on the collaborators and an ear open to The Honourable's polite exclamations of wonder.
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