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Updated: June 4, 2025
All the boys, Tell and Jim, the Meads, John, Clayton, and Bud Anderson, all but O'mie, met in the deep shadow of the oak before the tavern door. Our plans fell into form with Cam's wiser head to shape them here and there. The town was districted and each of us took his portion. In the time that followed, I worked noiselessly, heroically, taking the most dangerous places for my part.
The dew had not ceased to glitter, and the sun was hardly more than risen when Father Le Claire and the crowd of boys, reinforced now by Tell Mapleson and Jim Conlow, started bravely out, determined to find the boy who had been missing for what seemed ages to us. "If we find O'mie, we'll send word by the fastest runner, and you must ring the church bell," Le Claire arranged with Cam.
"You are right, gentlemen, in believing that I hold the key to this situation. The Judge has asked two questions: 'Did Patrick O'Meara ever give up his title to the land? and 'Is O'mie his heir, and therefore the rightful owner? Let me tell you first what I know of O'mie.
If not, why does the priest protect him? "In some way, too, both are concerned with O'mie. Le Claire is eager to protect the Irishman. I do not know where Jean is, but I believe sometimes he is here in concealment. He and Tell Mapleson are counselling together. I think he furnishes Tell with some booty, for Tell is inordinately prosperous. I look at this from a lawyer's place.
When you have finished this six months and are mustered out, I want you to come home at once. There are some business matters and family matters demanding it. But I must go to Kansas City, and from there to New York on important business. And since nobody has a lease on life, I may as well say now that if you get back and I'm not there, O'mie left his will with me before he went away." "His will?
I asked O'mie and Bud. "I've been here long enough to find out that these men out here won't stand for it any longer," I went on. "They're MEN on these Plains, who are doing this homesteading up and down these river valleys, and you write every letter of the word with a capital." "What'th going to be done?" Bud queried.
"What I need to do is to shrive myself, I guess, and then get up an inquisition, with myself as chief inquisitor." Marjie, studying the pictures in the burning coals, said nothing. O'mie also sat silent for a time. "Marjie," he said at length, "when you see things goin' all wrong end to, and you know what's behind 'em, drivin' 'em wrong, what's your rale Presbyterian duty then?
Poor Marjie! To her the Indian name was always a terror. Before I could reply O'mie broke in: "Marjory Whately, ye'll excuse me fur referrin' to it, but I ain't no bigger than you are." O'mie had not grown as the most of us had, and while he had a lightning quickness of movement, and a courage that never faltered, he was no match for the bigger boys in strength and endurance.
"It was to save her loife, Phil." O'mie spoke solemnly now. "You could save the town. I couldn't. I could save her. You couldn't. In a minute, there in the dark by the gate, Jean Pahusca grabs me round me dainty waist. His horse was ready by him an' he swung me into the saddle, not harsh, but graceful like, an' gintle.
"We shall want our horses at four sharp in the morning," one of the two came out to say to Cam. "We have a long hard day before us." "At your service," answered Cam. "O'mie, take the order in your head." "Is that the biggest hostler you've got?" looking contemptuously at little O'mie standing beside me.
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