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Updated: June 28, 2025
As Private Gellatly put it: "Sergeant Fones has the fear o' God in his heart, and the law of the land across his saddle, and the newest breech-loading at that!" He was part of the great machine of Order, the servant of Justice, the sentinel in the vestibule of Martial Law. His interpretation of duty worked upward as downward.
Young Aleck was uneasy; Pierre was perplexed. The Sergeant turned at the door, and said in French: "What are your chances for a Merry Christmas at Pardon's Drive, Pretty Pierre?" Pierre answered nothing. He shrugged his shoulders, and as the door closed, muttered, "Il est le diable." And he meant it. What should Sergeant Fones know of that intended meeting at Pardon's Drive on Christmas Day?
Private Gellatly said, with a shake of the head, as she was lost to view: "Devils bestir me, what a widdy she'll make!" It was understood that Aleck Windsor and Mab Humphrey were to be married on the coming New Year's Day. What connection was there between the words of Sergeant Fones and those of Private Gellatly? None, perhaps.
That was a dream of Sergeant Fones; but you see he believes it true. It is good sport, eh? Will you not take what is it? a silent partner? Yes; a silent partner, Old Aleck. Pretty Pierre has spare time, a little, to make money for his friends and for himself, eh?" When did not Pierre have time to spare? He was a gambler.
Men prophesied that he would have revenge some day on Sergeant Fones; but he did not show anything on which this opinion could be based. He took no umbrage at being called Pretty Pierre the gambler. But for all that he was possessed of a devil. Young Aleck had inherited some money through his dead mother from his grandfather, a Hudson's Bay factor.
"Why should I go with you?" this with a drunken man's bravado. "You are my prisoner." Pierre stepped forward. "What is his crime?" he exclaimed. "How does that concern you, Pretty Pierre?" "He is my friend." "Is he your friend, Aleck?" What was there in the eyes of Sergeant Fones that forced the reply, "To-night, yes; to-morrow, no." "Exactly. It is near to-morrow; come."
The bridle rein was still in the frigid fingers, and a smile was upon the face. A smile upon the face of Sergeant Fones! Perhaps he smiled that he was going to the Barracks of the Free "Free among the Dead like unto them that are wounded and lie in the grave, that are out of remembrance." In the wild night he had lost his way, though but a few miles from the barracks.
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