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The day Carnac was elected it was clear to Tarboe that he must win Junia at once, if he was ever to do so, for Carnac's new honours would play a great part in influencing her. In his mind, it was now or never for himself; he must bring affairs to a crisis. Junia's father was poor, but the girl had given their home an air of comfort and an art belonging to larger spheres.
"Well, you've done easier things than that in your time, eh?" John Grier asked. Tarboe nodded. "It was touch and go. I guess it was the hardest thing I ever tried since I've been working for you, but it's come off all right, hasn't it?" He waved a hand to the workmen on the river, to the tumbling rushes of logs and timber.
Tarboe, on the other hand, admired the frank, pleasant face of the young man, which carried still the irresponsibility of youth, but which conveyed to the watchful eye a brave independence, a fervid, and perhaps futile, challenge to all the world. Tarboe understood that this young man had a frankness dangerous to the business of life, yet which, properly applied, might bring great results.
I was giving her everything in me to give." "You mean money and a big house and servants and comfort," said Tarboe sardonically. "Well, ain't that right?" snapped the other. "Yes, it's all right, but it don't always bring you what you want. It's right, but it's wrong too. Women want more than that, boss. Women want to be loved sky high."
"It's a lie, and I'll go and see Roudin at once.... You've been a good friend to me in the fight, Tarboe, and I'd like a talk when it's all over." "That'll be easy enough, Grier. Don't make any mistake-this is a big thing you're doing; and if a Protestant Britisher can beat a Catholic Frenchman in his own habitant seat, it's the clinching of Confederation. We'll talk it over when you've won."
Tarboe did not understand, but now his blood was up, and as another volley sent bullets dropping around the two he gave the Ninety-Nine to the wind, and she came bearing down smartly to them. In a few moments they were safely on board, and Joan explained. Tarboe grasped Lafarge's unmaimed hand, the other Joan was caring for, and swore that fighting was the only thing left now. Mr.
There was a long silence, in which the ticking of the clock upon the wall seemed unduly loud and in which the buzz of cross-cut saws came sounding through the evening air. Yet Tarboe did not reply. "Have you nothing to say?" asked Grier at last. "Won't you do it eh?" "I'm studying the thing out," answered Tarboe quietly. "I don't quite see about these two wills.
The girl who could do him great harm was not in evidence, and it was too late to spoil his chances now, even if she came. What gave him greatest hope was the look on Junia's face as he passed her. It was the sign of the conqueror something he could not under stand. It was knowledge and victory. Also, he had a new feeling towards Tarboe, who had given him such powerful support.
And one of the men, as cheerful as Joan herself, undertook to carry a little keg of brandy into the house, under the very nose of the young inspector, who had sought to mark his appointment by the detection and arrest of Tarboe single-handed. He had never met Tarboe or Tarboe's daughter when he made his boast.
Presently, however, he made the Sign of the Cross upon himself, and, leaning against the wall, and opposite to Tarboe, he began the story he had told Carnac. His description of his dead fiancee had flashes of poetry and excruciating touches of life: "She had no mother, and there was lots of things she didn't know because of that ah, plenty!
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