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Updated: September 11, 2025
Outside we had gone only a few steps, when the General overtook us. "Baronet," he said, "you did right. You are a soldier, the kind that will yet save the Plains." He turned and entered his tent again. "Golly!" O'mie whistled softly. "It's me that thinks Jean Pahusca, son av whoever his father may be, 's got to the last and worst piece av his journey. I'm glad you didn't kill him, Phil.
Until you know more than you do now, you will say nothing to him or any one else of what I have told you." He looked steadily into my eyes, and I understood him. "I think Jean Pahusca will never trouble you, nor even come here now. I have my reasons for thinking so. But, Philip, if you should know of his being here, keep on your guard. He is a man of more than savage nature.
While Cam was speaking I noticed that Jean Pahusca who had been loafing about at the far side of the crowd, was standing behind Father Le Claire. No one could have told from his set, still face what his thoughts were just then. The last one who had seen O'mie was Marjie. "I had left the door open so I could find the way better," she said. "At the gate O'mie came running up.
Oh, he knew how to deceive, and he was as charming in manner as he was dominant in spirit. No king ever walked the earth with a prouder step. You have seen Jean Pahusca stride down the streets of Springvale, and you know his regal bearing. Such was this Frenchman. "In truth," the priest went on, "he had cause to leave New York.
"Star Face," Jean Pahusca used to call Marjie, for even in the Kansas heat and browning winds she never lost the pink tint no miniature painting on ivory could exaggerate. We stood looking at one another in the purple twilight. "What's your name?" "Marjory Whately. What's yours?" "Phil Baronet, and I'm seven years old." This, a shade boastingly. "I'm six," Marjory said.
When Jean Pahusca, drunk as a fury, was after you out on the prairie with that cruel knife ready, the knife I've seen him kill many a helpless thing with when he was drunk, when this Jean was ridin' like a fiend after you, Phil turned to me that day and his white agonized face I'll never forget. Now, Marjie, it's to right his wrong, and the wrongs of some he loves that I'm studyin' about.
From the first visit the good priest took to Jean Pahusca, and he helped to save the young brave from many a murdering spell. To O'mie and myself, however, remained the resolve to drive him from Springvale; for, boylike, we watched him more closely than the men did, and we knew him better. He was not the only one of our town who drank too freely.
Marjie was the last one in Springvale to be told of my sudden leave-taking. The day had been intolerably long for her, and the evening brought an irresistible temptation to go up to our old playground. Contrary to his daily habit my father had passed the Whately house on his way home, and Marjie had seen him climb the hill. I was as like him in form as Jean Pahusca was like Father Le Claire.
There right under it, on a black pony just like Tell Mapleson's, was Jean Pahusca. He was staring up at the window. He must have seen me move for he only stayed a minute and then away he went. I watched him till he had passed Judson's place and was in the shadows beyond the church.
'You can be spared, he says. 'If it's life and death, ye'll choose the better part. Phil, it was laid on all av us to choose that night." His thin, blue-veined hand sought mine where he lay reclining against the pillows. I took it in my big right hand, the hand that could hold Jean Pahusca with a grip of iron.
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