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Updated: June 5, 2025
Rouletta interrupted with a shake of her head, but the Countess gently persisted: "Don't take your misfortune too hard. The loss of your outfit means nothing compared with your safety. It was a great tragedy, of course, but you and your father were saved. You still have him and he has you."
"What happened? I I haven't heard. Don't they think Pierce did it?" "You KNOW he didn't do it," Rouletta cried. "Neither did he steal Courteau's money." "What do you mean, 'I know'?" Laure's voice was harsh, imperative.
Then he returned to the bar. Realizing that he was completely out of hand and that further argument was futile, Rouletta Kirby settled herself to wait. In spite of her misery, it never occurred to her to abandon her father to his own devices, even for an hour she knew him too well to run that risk. But her very bones were frozen and she shivered wretchedly as she held her shoes up to the stove.
She was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall, when the Countess Courteau knocked at her door and entered. The women had become good friends; frequently the elder one stopped to gossip. The Countess flung herself into a chair, rolled and lit a cigarette, then said: "Well, I see you and Agnes saved the bankroll again." Rouletta nodded. "Agnes is an awful bluff. I never load her.
Big Lars spoke up with his mouth full of pastry: "We don't allow anybody to go hungry in this camp," said he. "We're all your friends, miss, and if there's anything you want and can't afford, charge it to me." Rouletta stopped to speak with Miller, on her way out. "Do I get the position?" she inquired. "Say! You know you get it!" he told her. "You go on at eight and come off at midnight."
Every minute 'eat, eat'! You' worse dan harmy of Swede'. I ain't goin' tol' you what is dis s'prise bimeby you smell him cookin'." "Moose meat!" Rouletta cried. "No'" 'Poleon vigorously resumed his labor every stroke of the ax was accompanied by a loud "Huh!" "I tol' you not'in'!" he declared; then after a moment he voiced one word, "Caribou!" Again Rouletta uttered a famished cry.
For some time after the door had closed upon Rouletta the big fellow stood with bent head, staring at the snow beneath his feet. The cheer, the sympathy, had left his face; the smile had vanished from his lips; his features were set and stony. With an effort he shook himself, then, murmured: "Poor li'l bird! Wal, I s'pose now I got to bus' dat jail!"
But that has nothing whatever to do with the case." "I had no idea!" Rouletta said. "I suppose there's no hope for me, either. I'm not his kind. He's told me about his life, his people. I wouldn't fit in." "It isn't that people are adaptable, they make themselves fit, for a while at least it's a question of identities. As much a matter of family histories as anything else.
You t'ink I hurt dose he'pless li'l t'ing? You s'pose I mak' dem pay for w'at dey eat?" 'Poleon was soaring as only his free soul could soar; he indicated the tent at his back, whence issued the sound of Rouletta Kirby's ceaseless murmurings. "Dis gal she's tiny snowbird wit' broken wing. Bien! I fix her wing de bes' I can. I mak' her well an' I teach her to fly again. Dat's all."
On the way to her room Rouletta met the Countess Courteau, and in a few words made known the facts of Pierce's arrest. The elder woman listened in astonishment. "Arrested? For theft? Absurd! Who made the charge?" "Count Courteau." "COURTEAU? Where did he get a thousand dollars?" The speaker's face was set in an expression of utter incredulity. "I don't know.
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