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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Drive 'im from Klassan!" he roared, "but don't let his blood be on our heads!" He might as well have spoken to the wind which was roaring around them. The men were besides themselves, demented. They had reached the limit of their patience, and the wild passions surged within their breasts. In their eyes the cowardly deeds of Pritchen were without parallel. What dastardly tricks!
Any miner might have that much gold, he told him. What else could he show? Pritchen did not expect this, and felt somewhat confused. He fumbled in his pockets for some trinket to appease the suspicious chief. He was about to abandon the search when his hand struck a note book, in a pocket he had overlooked, on the inside of his rough jacket.
Base and sordid though they were, his companions could not fail to recognize the dignified, lofty bearing of the man before them, and the new light which illumined his face. Mickie O'Toole paused in the midst of a jocular remark, reverently crossed himself, and forgot to finish his sentence. Perdue remained silent, and even Pritchen failed to pour forth his quota of filth and blasphemy.
When he beheld the presents, and the cup of whiskey held so temptingly before the face of his revered chief, his wrath flared forth in righteous indignation. He lashed the Indians with a few stinging words of rebuke, and, springing forward, with blazing eyes confronted Pritchen. The latter, seeing the catechist's anger, realized the purport of his words.
He said our teacher did it. He laughed at him, and drove him from Klassan. He is there! He is there!" and the chief stretched out his hand and pointed straight at Pritchen, who shrank back as from a terrific blow. The speaker was about to proceed, but ere he could utter another word Old Pete sprang forward, and with blazing eyes confronted the Indian who had made this serious charge.
The dogs stood before the cabin shaking their bells, impatient to be away. A parting word to Amos, a crack of the whip in the frosty air, and the three noble brutes bounded forward out upon the trail, which wound through the village, past Perdue's store, and into the great lone beyond. Pritchen was leaning over the bar when Keith sped by. "Bells!" he cried, rushing to the small window.
Heem see box. Heem take wan poke, heem take two poke, all same dis," and the girl drew her hand twice from beneath her shawl, and stooped to the ground to show how it had been done. "You lie!" snarled Pritchen. But it was easy to see from his pallid face that the girl's words were having their effect.
The men are feelin' purty sore over the whole bizness. I begin to gather they think there's somethin' crooked about the affair, though they say nothin' open. Pritchen seems to be the most unsettled one of the bunch. Not only is he dead scart of the Injuns, but he sees that the miners are turnin' agin 'im fer gittin' 'em into sich a scrape.
Pritchen was prepared for this, and at once brought forth a fair-sized poke of gold and held it up in his hand. "Look," he said. "Much gold; the White Chief's gold. With this I will buy the presents in yonder store." The various "ah, ah's" which passed from one to another revealed the effect his words produced. But still the old man was not convinced.
The woman told me all just before her death, and gave in my charge her only living child, a bright-eyed girl, who is now at Klassan, and remembers it all." "What! the girl here?" asked Joe in surprise. "Yes, and it is all that we can do to prevent her from avenging her mother's death." "Does Pritchen know she's here?" "No, I think not.
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