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Updated: June 17, 2025
"One day, over a hundred years ago, Ursula Townley was waiting for Kenneth MacNair in a great beechwood, where brown nuts were falling and an October wind was making the leaves dance on the ground like pixy-people." "What are pixy-people?" demanded Peter, forgetting the Story Girl's dislike of interruptions. "Hush," whispered Cecily.
It so happened that at the time MacNair left for the barren grounds, Sotenah, the leader of the young men, the orator who had lauded MacNair to the skies and counselled a summary wiping out of Chloe Elliston's school, chanced to be laid up with an injury to his foot. And, as he could not accompany the hunters, MacNair placed him in charge of the fort during his absence.
She shuddered at the nearness of the sound and turned, expecting to encounter the red throat and slavering jaws of the fang-bared leader of the pack, and instead she saw only MacNair. Then along the wall of the forest came thin grey puffs of smoke, and her ears rang with the crash of the rifle-volley.
The man's eyes gleamed and the thin lips smiled as his glance rested momentarily upon the figure of the girl the unwitting, and therefore the more powerful, weapon that chance had placed in his hands in his battle against MacNair.
"You got MacNair lock up," Du Mont leered knowingly. "Bien! You t'ink MacNair run de wheeskey. But MacNair, she ain't run no wheeskey. You mak' de deal wit' me. Ba Gos'! I'm not jus' tell you de name, I'm tell you so you fin' w'at you call de proof! I no fin' de proof you no turn me loose. Voil
Creeping noiselessly through the scrub to the very edge of the tiny clearing, Lapierre satisfied himself that MacNair was unattended by his Indians. The man's back was turned toward him, and the quarter-breed noticed that, as he talked, he leaned upon his rifle. It was a chance in a thousand. Never before had he caught MacNair unprepared and the man's blood would be upon his own head.
He counted eighty-seven men under arms, thirty of whom were armed with Lapierre's Mausers. The position of the quarter-breed's fort admitted only one plan of attack to rush the barricade that stretched across the neck of the little peninsula. MacNair longed for action.
At first Lapierre flatly refused to credit the Indian's yarn, but when upon pain of death the man refused to alter his statement, and added the information that he himself had fired at MacNair from the shelter of a snow-ridden spruce, and that just as he pulled the trigger the man of the soldier-police had intervened and stopped the speeding bullet, Lapierre knew that the Indian spoke the truth.
Fort Chippewayan in three days more, and Fort Resolution a week later seventeen days from Athabasca Landing to Fort Resolution a record trip for a dog-train! MacNair was known as a man of few words, but Ripley wondered at the ominous silence with which his every attempt at conversation was met.
Corporal Ripley cleared his throat. "Do I understand," he began stiffly, "that you intend to prefer certain charges against MacNair that you demand his arrest?" "I should think you would understand it!" retorted the girl. "I have told you three or four times." The officer flushed slightly and shifted the hat from his right to his left hand.
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