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Updated: May 6, 2025
He knew the Bell River neches, whom he hated so cordially in common with all others of his race, were to be outwitted, defeated. And his share in that outwitting was to be a large one, and would only go to prove further what a contemptible thing the neche really was.
The great three-legged savage was in the midst of a fierce scrimmage. Two farm dogs were attacking him. They were both half-bred sheep-dogs. One was making futile attempts to get a hold upon the stranger, and Neche was shaking the other as a terrier would shake a rat.
And one of them was an old, old weazened up Indian of small stature and squalid appearance. "Visitors?" he said, without turning. Bill came up behind him. "A deputation," he said. "An old chief and three young men. They've got a neche with them who talks 'white. And they're not going to quit till they've held a big pow-wow with the white chief, Kars. They've got his name good.
Neche reluctantly left his bone having satisfied himself in a comprehensive survey that no canine interloper was about who could steal his treasure during his absence and followed them. He walked beside the girl without any sign of pleasure. He was a dog that seemed to find no joy in his master's or mistress's company. He seemed to have no affection in him, and lived a life of mute protest.
My chart says the second. I studied it carefully. The 'confounded neche, as you call him, says 'not yet. Which means that he considers it to be the second bush. You say no." "The neche only knows the trail by repute. You have never been over it before. I have travelled it six times. You make me tired. Give it a rest.
"It's cur'us that you git more o' them black pelts around here than anybody else higher up north. You're a sight better hunters than any durned neche on the Peace River. An' them hides is worth more'n five times their weight in gold. You're makin' a pile o' bills. Say, you keep them black pelts snug away wi' other stuff o' value." Gagnon paused and took a deep draught at his coffee.
I was sitting around over the camp-fire on the trail from Seal Bay with nothing better to do than to listen to the crazy dream of an ignorant, superstitious neche. It was in that fool yarn I found the answer to all the questions we've asked in fourteen years. As I tell you, it was just a crazy notion till I started in to fit it to the arguments your father handed to us.
Then start right in, when it's dark, and don't pass word to a soul, or I'll rawhide you. Get this good. If the neches get wise to you the game's played, and we've lost." The Indian's reply came on the instant, and it was full to the brim of that contempt which the mention of his race never failed to arouse. "Damn fool neche not know," he said icily. Kars watched him set out for the cook-house.
It was his purpose to remove that shadow, and he strove with voice and act to do so. The first support of his coming passed with the emptying of his pistols. He flung them aside without a moment's hesitation, and grabbed a rifle from a fallen neche. It was the act of a man who knew the value of every second gained. He knew, even more, the value of his own gigantic strength.
"Kind o' struck it lucky," he observed, without any great show of enthusiasm. "Come right in. The neche can take the dogs round the side there," pointing to the left of the dugout. "There's a weatherproof shack there where I keep my kindling. Guess he can fix up in that till this d d breeze has blown itself out. You've missed the trail, I take it. Come right in."
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