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Updated: May 5, 2025
Perault's Gallic temperament responded to the doctor's quiet tone and manner. "Oui. Bon," he said, settling down. "Listen to me. We come nice and slow to dis place, an' den we go up dat gulch for little prospect. Good ting, too. Good mine dere, sure. But old boss he can't stay. He must go, go, go. Den we go up 'noder gulch, tree, four day more, for 'noder mine. Pretty good, too.
"Can't mak fool on her." Half way to the village stood the old Prospector's house, almost hidden in a bluff of poplar and spruce. A little further on was Perault's shack. At her father's door the girl waited. "Perault," she said quietly, "I left the key at your house. Will you get it for me while I take Patsy home?" "Bon," said Perault eagerly. "I get heem an' mak fire."
In half an hour, with Perault's assistance, Shock had the old man between heated blankets, exhausted with pain, but resting comfortably. "Mr. Macgregor," said the old man, taking Shock by the hand, "I have found that life sooner or later brings opportunity to discharge every obligation. Such an opportunity I shall eagerly await." "I have done no more than any man should," replied Shock simply.
Then the girl knew that Perault had not told her the worst, turning impatiently from him, she lifted little Patsy on to the saddle and, disdaining Perault's offered help, sprang on herself and set off toward the village about a mile away at full gallop. "Das mighty smart girl," said Perault, scratching his head as he set off after her as fast as his jaded pony could follow.
"Indeed, then, he's too small a man for you, and as to myself, we can see about that later," said Shock quietly. He closed his fingers on the wrist he held. The hand gripping Perault's throat opened quickly, allowing the Frenchman to fall to the floor. Swinging round with a hoarse cry, the big Irishman aimed a terrific blow at Shock's head.
Carroll, "an' will he luk at his father or meself when his riverince is by? An' he'll follie him out an' beyant on that little pony of his." The Superintendent made no remark, but he kept quietly gathering information. In Perault's house it was the same. Perault, Josie, and Marion sang in harmony the praises of Shock.
Send beeg feller along all right." The girl stood listening to Perault's dramatic tale, her face growing white. "Is father not hurt at all, then?" she asked. "Non. Hees tough ole man, dat boss," said Perault. Then he added lightly, "Oh! hees broke some small bone what you call? on de collar, dere. Dat noting 'tall." "Oh, Perault!" exclaimed the girl. "You're not telling me the truth.
She unhitched her horse, rolled up her picket rope, and stood waiting with disturbed face. As the rider drew near she called, "Perault! Ho, Perault!" "Hola!" exclaimed Perault, a wizened, tough-looking little Frenchman, pulling up his pony with a jerk "Bo jou, Mam'selle," he added, taking off his hat. Perault's manner is reassuring, indeed quite gay. "What is it, Perault? Why are you come back?
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