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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Wal, no, to own the truth, I 'lows I was scart to death wi' what them neches said. Maybe I wa'n't sorry to light out o' them woods." They talked on for a few moments longer, then Ralph's stertorous breathing told of sleep. Victor was not long in following his example. Nick sat smoking thoughtfully for some time; presently he rose and put out the lamp and stoked up the fire.
Anyway time's not calculated to make it easier. It's all right before me now, set out as only the fiend-spawn of Bell River can set it out." His tone deepened and he spoke more rapidly. "We got that call in the evening. An hour after I was hot foot down the river with an outfit of thirty neches, armed with an arsenal of weapons." His tone grew.
Peigan Charley, the contemptuous, blocked up the doorway ready at a moment's notice to carry out any orders his "boss" might choose to give him, and living in the hopes that such orders, when they came, might at least demand violence towards these "damn neches" who had dared to invade the camp. But his hopes were destined to remain unfulfilled.
They were both smoking, and Garstaing was doing the talking. At all times Steve preferred that his visitors should do most of the talking. "I guessed I best come right along," he said, regarding the other closely. "You see, I'll be handin' out Treaty Money to the darn neches to-morrow morning. It'll take me best part of the day."
You've got a sick woman under your hands now, Doc, and two copper coloured neches. And when I say they're the world's best, why I just mean it." A deep flush of emotion underlaid the toughened skin of Steve's face. He was deeply stirred by the thoughts and feelings which the other's demand had conjured. The doctor glanced down at the sheets of paper on which Steve had written his report.
He woke up next morning with his pet 'tough' a big breed lying across his home doorstep. He guessed he was dead. But he wasn't. He woke up about midday and started guessing where he was. Later on he handed out a fancy yarn what the neches had done to him. An', happening to dove a hand into a pocket, he hauled out a letter addressed to Lorson himself. It just said four words, an' Lorson spoke them.
"From what I hear it can't be too tough for the feller Lorson's sent there. There'll be blood and murder amongst the neches there if they don't hand over easy." Alroy laughed immoderately at the prospect he contemplated, and held out his hand in friendly farewell as his customer prepared to depart. "Well, so long, Mister," he grinned amiably.
It's a stinking outfit," he exclaimed, in tones that left no doubt of his feelings, as he flung himself on his bunk and began to fill his pipe. Bill glanced up. His gaze was preoccupied. "Neches do stink," he admitted. Kars struck a match. "I wasn't worrying about the neches. The neches don't cut any ice with me. It's Murray." Bill shook his head while he watched Kars light his pipe.
"Then came the time when Marcel had to make a trip to Seal Bay. He'd postponed it as long as he could. But our stuff had accumulated, and we had to get rid of it, and so, at last, he was forced to go. The post was well fortified, as you've seen, and we were liberally supplied with means of defence. Lupite was faithful, and I could rely on my other fighting neches.
Nor did it need much understanding to realize that it came from behind a primitive, cotton-covered window. "Good. How far?" It was Kars who spoke. "Piece down. Piece up. So. One mile. Bluff. Small piece. Bell River neches plenty teepee." Charley spoke with his outstretched hand indicating a brief decline, and the corresponding rise of ground beyond.
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