Then with rising anger he
advanced, peering into my face with his foxy eyes. "And I'll tell
you right here, Dan McLeod, I'd be a hundred times a cad, and a
thousand times a liar to save the souls and bodies of our Indians
from going to hell, through your cursed whiskey."
I have always been a brave man, but I confess I felt childishly
scared before the wild, mesmeric power of his eyes. I was unable to
move a finger, but I blurted out boastfully: "If it wasn't for your
preacher's hat and coat I'd send your sneaking soul to Kingdom
Come, right here!"
Instantly he hauled off his coat and tie and stood with clenched
fists while his strange eyes fairly spat green fire.
"Now," he fumed, "I've discarded my cloth, Dan McLeod. You've got
to deal with a man now, not with a minister."
To save my immortal soul I can't tell why I couldn't stir. I only
know that everything seemed to drop out of sight except his two
little blazing eyes. I stood like a fool, queered, dead queered
right through.
He turned politely to the girl. "You may go, Elizabeth," he said,
"and thank you for your assistance." The girl turned and went up
the trail without a word.
With the agility of a cat he sprang on to the wood-pile, pitched
off enough cordwood to expose my entire "cellar;" then going across
to Lige, he coolly took the axe out of his hand.
Pages:
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199