Gilbert Parker

“ There was a pause, in which no one stirred, and then the girl, slowly walking up to Borotte, her pistol levelled, said: “You low coward—to shoot a man from behind; and you want to be a decent girl's husband! These men that say they're my brothers are brutes, but you're a sneak. If you stir a step I'll fire.”
The cowardice of Borotte was almost ridiculous. He dared not harm the girl, and her brothers could not prevent her harming him. Here there came a knocking at the front door. The other brothers had come, and found it locked. Pierre saw the crisis, and acted instantly. ”

“ I go for fun and Jimmy Throng. The girl? Pshaw! she would come out right in the end, without you or me. But the old man with half a lung—that's different. He must have sweet bread in his belly when he dies, and the girl must make it for him. She shall brush her hair with the ivory brush by Sunday morning.”
Halby turned sharply.
“You've been spying,” he said. “You've been in her room—you—”
Pierre put out his hand and stopped the word on Halby's lips.
“Slow, slow,” he said; “we are both—police to-day. Voilà! we must not fight. There is Throng and the girl to think of.” ”

“ Pierre had charged Duc the incompetent upon matters for the old man's comfort, and had himself, with a curious sort of kindness, steeped the boneset and camomile in whisky, and set a cup of it near his chair. Then he had gone up to Throng's bedroom and straightened out and shook and “made” the corn-husk bed, which had gathered into lumps and rolls. Before he came down he opened a door near by and entered another room, shutting the door, and sitting down on a chair. A stove-pipe ran through the room, and it was warm, though the window was frosted and the world seemed shut out. ”

“ Pierre looked up at the wall.
“Throng has a good Snider there,” he said.
“Bosh! Throng can't go.”
The old man coughed and strained.
“If it wasn't—only-half a lung, and I could carry the boneset 'long with us.”
Pierre slid off the table, came to the old man, and, taking him by the arms, pushed him gently into a chair.
“Sit down; don't be a fool, Throng,” he said. Then he turned to Halby: “You're a magistrate—make me a special constable; I'll go, monsieur le capitaine—of no company.”
Halby stared. He knew Pierre's bravery, his ingenuity and daring. ”

“ Pierre reached over and lightly kicked a moccasined foot.
“Get up, Jim Throng,” he said. “Holy! do you think the law moves because an old man cries? Is it in the statutes?—that's what the law says. Does it come within the act? Is it a trespass—an assault and battery?—a breach of the peace?—a misdemeanour? Victoria—So and So: that's how the law talks. Get on your knees to Father Corraine, not to Captain Halby, Jimmy Throng.”
Pierre spoke in a half-sinister, ironical way, for between him and Captain Halby's Riders of the Plains there was no good feeling. ”

“ I ought to ha' stole three.”
“Ah, Manette ought to have given you some of your own, it's true, that!” said Duc stolidly. “You never was a real father, Jim.”
“Liddy got to look like me; she got to look like Manette and me, I tell ye!” said the old man hoarsely.
Duc laughed in his stupid way. “Look like you? Look like you, Jim, with a face to turn milk sour? Ho, ho!”
Throng rose, his face purple with anger, and made as if to catch Duc by the throat, but a fit of coughing seized him, and presently blood showed on his lips. ”

“ After a moment Throng shook his head feebly and said, scarcely above a whisper:
“But I be a durn fool—when she's not here.”
Duc nodded and gave him more whisky and herbs. “My feet's cold,” said the old man, and Duc wrapped a bearskin round his legs.
II For miles Pierre and Halby rode without a word. Then they got down and walked for a couple of miles, to bring the blood into their legs again.
“The old man goes to By-by bientôt,” said Pierre at last. “You don't think he'll last long?”
“Maybe ten days; maybe one. If we don't get the girl, out goes his torchlight straight.” ”

“ Pierre could hear a man tramping about upstairs. Caleb knocked on the stove-pipe, and called to him to come down. Pierre guessed it was Borotte. This would add one more factor to the game. He must move at once. He suddenly slipped a pistol into the girl's hand, and with a quick word to her, stepped towards the door. The elder brother sprang between—which was what he looked for. By this time every man had a weapon showing, snatched from wall and shelf. ”

“ Here,” he added to the others, “up with your popguns; this shindy's off; and the girl goes back till the old man tucks up. Have a drink,” he added to Pierre, as he stood his rifle in a corner and came to the table.
In half an hour Pierre and the girl were on their way, leaving Borotte quarrelling with the brothers, and all drinking heavily. The two arrived at Throng's late the next afternoon. There had been a slight thaw during the day, and the air was almost soft, water dripping from the eaves down the long icicles.
When Lydia entered, the old man was dozing in his chair. ”

“ The snow is light and we can travel quick. I have a good horse, and you—”
“I have my black Tophet. He'll travel with your roan as on one snaffle-bar. That roan—you know where he come from?”
“From the Dolright stud, over the Border.” ”