The Man From Glengarry | Page 8

his men roared. "Dat good whiskey," he cried, still
holding the boy. "You not lak dat, hey?"

"No," said the boy, "it is not good at all."
"Try heem some more," said LeNoir, thrusting the bottle at him again.
"I will not," said Ranald, looking at LeNoir straight and fearless.
"Ho-ho! mon brave enfant! But you have not de good mannere. Come,
drink!" He caught the boy by the back of the neck, and made as if to
pour the whiskey down his throat. Black Hugh, who had been kept
back by Yankee Jim all this time, started forward, but before he could
take a second step Ranald, squirming round like a cat, had sunk his
teeth into LeNoir's wrist. With a cry of rage and pain LeNoir raised the
bottle and was bringing it down on Ranald's head, when Black Hugh,
with one hand, caught the falling blow, and with the other seized
Ranald, and crying, "Get out of this!" he flung him towards the door.
Then turning to LeNoir, he said, with surprising self-control, "It is
myself that is sorry that a boy of mine should be guilty of biting like a
dog."
"Sa-c-r-re le chien!" yelled LeNoir, shaking off Macdonald Dubh; "he
is one dog, and the son of a dog!" He turned and started for the boy.
But Yankee Jim had got Ranald to the door and was whispering to him.
"Run!" cried Yankee Jim, pushing him out of the door, and the boy was
off like the wind. LeNoir pursued him a short way and returned raging.
Yankee Jim, or Yankee, as he was called for short, came back to
Macdonald Dubh's side, and whispering to the other Highlanders,
"Keep your backs clear," sat up coolly on the counter. The fight was
sure to come and there were seven to one against them in the room. If
he could only gain time. Every minute was precious. It would take the
boy fifteen minutes to run the two miles to camp. It would be half an
hour before the rest of the Glengarry men could arrive, and much
fighting may be done in that time. He must avert attention from
Macdonald Dubh, who was waiting to cram LeNoir's insult down his
throat. Yankee Jim had not only all the cool courage but also the
shrewd, calculating spirit of his race. He was ready to fight, and if need
be against odds, but he preferred to fight on as even terms as possible.

Soon LeNoir came back, wild with fury, and yelling curses at the top of
his voice. He hurled himself into the room, the crowd falling back from
him on either hand.
"Hola!" he yelled, "Sacre bleu!" He took two quick steps, and springing
up into the air he kicked the stovepipe that ran along some seven feet
above the floor.
"Purty good kicking," called out Yankee, sliding down from his seat.
"Used to kick some myself. Excuse ME." He stood for a moment
looking up at the stovepipe, then without apparent effort he sprang into
the air, shot up his long legs, and knocked the stovepipe with a bang
against the ceiling. There was a shout of admiration.
"My damages," he said to Pat Murphy, who stood behind the counter.
"Good thing there ain't no fire. Thought it was higher. Wouldn't care to
kick for the drinks, would ye?" he added to LeNoir.
LeNoir was too furious to enter into any contest so peaceful, but as he
specially prided himself on his high kick, he paused a moment and was
about to agree when Black Hugh broke in, harshly, spoiling all
Yankee's plans.
"There is no time for such foolishness," he said, turning to Dan Murphy.
"I want to know when we can get our timber out."
"Depinds intoirly on yirsilf," said Murphy.
"When will your logs be out of the way?"
"Indade an' that's a ha-r-r-d one," laughed Murphy.
"And will you tell me what right hev you to close up the river?" Black
Hugh's wrath was rising.
"You wud think now it wuz yirsilf that owned the river. An' bedad it's
the thought of yir mind, it is. An' it's not the river only, but the whole
creation ye an yir brother think is yours. Dan Murphy was close up to

Macdonald Dubh by this time. "Yis, blank, blank, yir faces, an' ye'd
like to turn better than yirsilves from aff the river, so ye wud, ye
black-hearted thaves that ye are."
This, of course, was beyond all endurance. For answer Black Hugh
smote him sudden and fierce on the mouth, and Murphy went down.
"Purty one," sang out Yankee, cheerily. "Now, boys, back to the wall."
Before Murphy could rise, LeNoir sprang over him and lit upon
Macdonald like a cat, but Macdonald shook