The girl
arose, folding her damp shawl over her head, and made towards the
door; but he intercepted her, saying it was late and as their ways
lay in the same direction, he would take her home. She shot a quick
glance at him and went out. Some little uneasy action of his caught
my notice. In a second my suspicions were aroused; the meeting had
been arranged, and I knew from what I had seen him to be that the
girl was doomed.
It was all very well for me to do up Cayuga Joe--he was the Indian
whose hundred dollars' worth of cordwood I owned in lieu of
six quarts of bad whiskey--but his women-folks were entitled to be
respected at least while I was around. I looked at my watch; it was
past midnight. I suddenly got boiling hot clean through.
"Look here, Tom Barrett," I said, "I ain't a saint, as everybody
knows; but if you don't treat that girl right, you'll have to
square it up with me, d'you understand?"
He threw me a nasty look. "Keep your gallantry for some occasion
when it's needed, Dan McLeod," he sneered, and with a laugh I
didn't like, he followed the girl out into the rain.
I walked some distance behind them for two miles. When they reached
her father's house and went in, I watched her through the small
uncurtained window put something on the fire to cook, then arouse
her mother, who even at that late hour sat beside the stove smoking
a clay pipe.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196