The Shagganappi | Page 7

the night, "going to
chum around with the son of your father's cook, are you?"
Hal whirled on his heel, his hand clenched, his knuckles standing out
white and bony; then he checked the torrent of words that sprang to his
lips and answered quietly, "Yes, I am."
"Going to take him to Sir George and Lady Bennington's city residence
for the Easter Vac?" sneered Shorty.
The answer came again quietly, "Yes, I am"; then, after a brief interval,
"if he will pay me the compliment of coming."
Shorty subsided; he had not expected this, and, truth to tell, he felt at
that moment that his sneers had accomplished precisely the opposite
effect to what he had intended; but Hal made no comment until just
before they got into their beds; then he said evenly:

"Shorty, you and I are room-mates, we have been pals for over a year;
we won't discuss Shag Larocque, for I see that we shall never agree
about him."
"I hate a mongrel," sniffed Shorty; "this fellow is neither Indian nor
white."
"He's more Indian than white, and better for it, too," said Hal; "but, I
say, Shorty--what nationality was your father?"
"Irish," said Shorty, with some pride.
"And your mother?" persisted Hal relentlessly.
"Oh, mother's parents were English; she was born here in Canada,"
replied Shorty a little weakly.
"Oh!" was all Hal said, but it held a world of meaning.
"Now, see here, Hal," began Shorty apologetically, "I know what you
are thinking, but I'm British right through and my skin's white, no
matter how you take it. I'm white on both sides of the family; I'm not
splashed with tinted blood like this fellow from the North-West that's
strayed in here; his skin's almost yellow."
"Yes," acquiesced Hal, "his skin is tinted--it is tinted, not tainted.
There's a big difference, Shorty. Do you know, I'd give the world if I
had as much of a copper-colored tint to my skin as Shag has."
"Rot!" ejaculated Shorty.
"No rot at all," cut in Hal; "I love the Indian people. You call this chap
a 'mongrel,' but I tell you he is Indian--anyone can see it, and I know it.
His father may have cooked in camp for my father, and did so, but from
what my father told me, he, French Pete, was an honest man, and a
brave one, too, and his son's good enough for me, and I'm his friend
until the last dog's hung."
That ended things for the time, for the college bells clanged out "lights

out," and the inmates, both white and Indian, slept.
* * * * * * * *
"Yes, my dear boy," wrote Sir George, some weeks later, "by all means
bring young Larocque home for the Easter vacation; I shall welcome
the son of my old friend and guide with the greatest delight. I have
frequently told you of French Pete's heroism and unselfishness, and if
by a little hospitality I can show the son what I think of the father, I
shall regard it as a privilege. Your dear mother will write you to-night,
and will enclose a little note of invitation from us both to your friend
'Shagganappi'--how that good old North-West word brings back my
youth! I think I like your friend, even before I see him, just because he
has adopted that name."
So it was all arranged that Shag should spend the Easter vacation at the
palatial home of the Benningtons in Montreal. As Hal was so popular,
this holiday invitation was always regarded as the greatest compliment
by any boy who was fortunate enough to receive it, but never before
had Lady Bennington written personally to invite one of Hal's friends.
It was such a dear little note, too; Hal never admired his mother quite
so much as when Shag handed him the invitation to read. Lady
Bennington was famous as one of the few women who always say and
do the right thing at the right moment. The note ran:
"Dear Shagganappi,-- "Do come with my boy at Eastertide; we want
you--come. "Your friend, Hal's mother, "CONSTANCE
BENNINGTON."
So Easter found the boys at Montreal, Shag a little shy at first amidst
all the grandeur and wealth of Hal's home, but covering that shyness
with a quiet dignity that sat very well on his young shoulders. With a
wonderful knack of delicacy, Hal would smooth out any threatened
difficulty for the Indian boy--little table entanglements, such as new
dishes or unaccustomed foods. But Shag was at times surprisingly
outspoken, and the first night at dinner seemingly won Sir George's
heart by remarking when the fruit plates and finger-glasses were served,

"Now, Hal, don't be afraid that I won't understand this; fortunately I
dined on the dining-cars on the way