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Updated: May 13, 2025
I'm going to kill him," shouted the excited Bordeson. "No, no, don't kill him. Otto, don't you kill him," expostulated Johnson, as the Swede's finger clutched nervously at the trigger, and turning, he roared, "Throw away that knife, you d Indian!" The detachment now came charging in through the snow, and gathered around excitedly.
I was not in nearly such a vainglorious mood as I had been back in the Swede's barroom, with the waterfront applauding me. If Newman had offered to dodge around the corner with me, I'd have gone. The aspect of that empty wharf was depressing, and there was something sinister about all these unusual circumstances surrounding our joining the ship.
Standing there at the wheel, with one eye upon Captain Swope and the other upon my work, I found I owned a full measure of rueful thoughts. The Golden Bough was an eye-opener to me, used though I was to hard ships and hard men. I wished I had not shown myself such a hard case back there in the Swede's. I cursed myself for the vainglorious fool I was for having put myself in such a hole.
Morton's head disappeared, and after waiting a few moments to make sure he did not intend coming up on the poop, I returned to the skylight. My precious shipmate was talking again. "Hi 'eard 'im sy in the Knitting Swede's 'ow 'e was shipping in this ship just to ryse 'ell." "He said that, did he?" commented Captain Swope. "Now what have you to say to that, Newman?"
I made a noise in the Swede's house, and was proud of myself. My first A.B.'s spree! On the third evening of my "bust," my mettle was tested. There was a woman in the Swede's house, a slim wisp of a little Jewess, with the sweet face of a Madonna and the eyes of a wanton. Well she smiled on me. She had good reason to; was I not making my gold pieces dance a merry tune?
The veterinary asked if we had heard about the Indian ruction down at Kulanche last night Kulanche Springs being the only pretense to a town between our ranch and Red Gap a post-office, three general stores, a score of dwellings, and a low drinking place known as The Swede's. The news had not come to us; so the veterinary obliged.
So the King spoke to my Lord Chamberlain; and many such mementos the King do now-a-days meet withall, enough to make an ingenuous man mad. The feast being kept at White Hall, out of design, as it is thought, to make the best countenance we can to the Swede's Embassadors, before their leaving us to go to the treaty abroad, to shew some jollity. We sat at the office all the morning.
The men had noticed it, but no one had given vent to his thoughts. Tod, of course, knew the cause of the captain's impatience, but no one of the others did, not even Archie; time enough for that when the Swede's story was proved true. If the fellow had lied that was an end to it; if he had told the truth Bart would answer, and the mystery be cleared up.
As he leaped he swung the bit of heavy, hard wood above his head. The Swede dropped his reins and threw up his arms to guard himself, but the pick-handle, wielded in a great, sinewy right hand, beat down his arms and struck him a crashing blow across his forehead. Conniston heard the thud of it where he stood. The Swede's arms flew out and he went down like a steer in a slaughter-house.
The Swede's voice rose above wind and rain and the rattle of loose windows, and he was saying something about three years ago and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, when the strange look in Alan's face made him pause to hear other words than his own. Five minutes later he opened a door looking out over the black sea, bracing his arm against it.
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