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RtTmesi
|& WEEK
VOL. 45.
A LOVELY BULLY,
BY GILBERT PARKER,
Author of ‘‘Pierre and His People/* ‘‘Mrs. Falchion/' etc.
iHilb Copyright, 1825, by Gilbert Parker.
He was «ix feet six and fat. He camo to
Fort O’Angel, at Hudson’s Bay, an im
tnense #Hp of a lad, very much in the
way. very fond of horses, a wonderful
hand at wrestling, pretending a horri
ble temper, threatening tragedies for all
who differed from him, making the Fort
quake with his-rich roar, and playing the
Aims of bully with a fine simplicity. In
winter he fattened. In summer he sweat
ed, at all times ho ate eloquently.
It was a picture to see him with the
pndercut of a haunch of deer or buffalo,
or with a whole prairie fowl on his plate,
hia eyes measuring it shrewdly, his coat
and waistcoat open, and a clear space
about him.
It came to be a usual thing for no one
to sit very close to him. Perhups this
was because everybody who tried it
was so dwarfed beside him, perhaps be
cause he really did need room to stretch
his mighty limbs. At any rate he gen
erally had a space to himself in which
ha sat throned on his own ample quar
ters, beaming, or gloriously scowling, on
those about him.
But scowl he ever so much, you fan
cied you could see a laugh Idling in
his Irregular bushy beard, which lifted
about his face, in the wind like a mane,
or made a kind of underbrush through
which his blunt fingers ran at hide-and
eeek.
He was Irish, and his name was Mae
*voy. In later days, when Fort O'Angel
was Invaded by settlers, he had his time
pt great importance. .
He had been useful to the Chief Trader
at the fort, through his influence with the
Blackfeet Indians, and having the run
of the traders’ quarters and the reach of
his knife. was as little likely to discontinue
his adherence. At the same time he
had made a very little money, had got
some land from the. company, and was
not ill-disposed to the settlers (whose
presence would enhance his values),
though they were regarded coldly toy
the chief trader ahd his people Macavoy
discriminated. That Is, he ate and drank
with all parties, and abused all impar
tially.
‘'Malcolm,” he said to the Trader,
a "Malcolm, nte , hit top o’ the H.8.C.,
wants the E'ar North for your'foot
||ytocl~Mak>plm, you villain, it’s me grief
and !n <’ thumb u> Jne
■ right and left, ami st ,id.
vvasn t there land In the east and west,
~iiat you steal the country God made for
honest men?—you robbers o’ the wide
world! Me tooth on the Book, and I tell
you what, it’s only me charity that Rapes
me from spollln’ ye. For a wink of me
eye, an' away you'd go, leaving your
tails behind you ♦ • * • and pn(M
that shoulder of bear, you pirates, till I
come to it sideways like n hog to war!”
But he was even less sympathetic with
Bareback, the chief of the Blackfeet, and
his brave*. “Sons o’ Anak y’are; here
to-day and away to-morrow, like the
clods Os the valley—and that's your por
tion, Bareback. It’s the wore o’ the
1 entytookln pieces you go, like a potter’s
vessel. Bedad, don't ehrug your shoul
ders at me, Bareback, you pig, or you’ll
think that Ballroboob’s loose on the ma”
But take a sup o’ this whisky as a token
i m merciful, while you swear wld your
hand on your chest ‘Amen’ to the words
o’ Tim Macavoy!”
Beside Macavoy, Pierre, the notorious
halfbreed, was a child in hight. Up to
the time of hl# coming the Irishman hud
been the most notable man at Fort O'An
gel, wad was sure at least of a good-na
tured homage, acknowledged by us lovlal
tyranny.
Fierro put & flea in his ear. He was pen
alvely Indifferent to him even in his
most royal moments. He tried in vain to
attract pierre'e attention; Pierre's eye
only wandered over him lastly, and occu
pied itself with something else. Yet the
halfbreed showed him no disrespect pub
licly; nor wa* he curious about him pri
vately. The fact is, he knew MaenVoy's
hietory when ho came to the tort, and he
understood hie character better than any
one else; for he had a keen and wide
knowledge of life.
lie guessed the way to bring down the
gusto and pride of this Goliath, but. for
a purpose, he took hu own time, nod
ding Indolentiv to Maoavey whan he met
him. but avoiding talk with him. Ho bi
carna free of the fort, and was in favor
wltb the chief trader, chiefly because he
was es an ironical turn, and, besides, he
gave information which ended in secur
ing for Fort, O’Angel the year's furs of
the Long Arm tribe from the Copper
mi ae river. „
Ho became friendly with the settlers,
because, understanding the Indians well,
and the Hudson's bay people better, he
gave them good advice; and, moreover,
acted u.s go-between for them with the
company. To the lodges of the Indians
he w»« everywhere welcome; because,
however much he spoiled others at euchre
or poker, he gave gifts to these.
Among the Indian maidens Macavoy
wua like a king or khan; for they count
much on bulk and beauty, and he answered ■
to their standards—especially to Wonta's. I
It xvg* a sight to see him of a sumjner day |
sitting In the shade of a pine, his shirt
open, showing his firm brawny chest, his I
arms bare, his face shining with perspira
tion, his big voice gurgling in his beard, 1
h|s eyes- rolling amiably upon the maidens
ms they passed or gathered demurely about
while he declaimed in patois or Chinook
to the Indians, of his mighty deeds.
Pierre’s humor was of * the quietest.
nkOCt subtCTantan kind. He never laughed.
He smiled, and then It was more with his
Up* than with his •yea. He wu bom with
a marvellous sense of invention; he loved
nothing more than the game of life. He I
•njojed his own misfortunes (and he had ;
had many in hie time) on that basis. Of
ten tn b>., travels !:.<• had b«. n the .-wivel
<m which the tragedies and comedies of
others had spun, because he had insight,
was not shy fit interesting himself, had an ;
unusual gift at deciding when things i
should happen, and was quite without feei.
He knew that Macavoy had not an evil I
hair in bls head; that vanity was his j
weakness, and that through him
•hete would have been mone half*
VtvM Hpulath?». There was a tradition j
' I . • ■ .
4 ••
IBcckln News.
i THE MORNING NEWS. I
•{ ESTABLISHED 1850. »TKQ 1888. C
I J. H. ESTILL. Pr E neck((Rs ?
'J U 1 OlhCl.
that he had a wife somewhere —based upon
wild words he had once said when under
the influence of bad liquor; but he had
roared the lie at Private Bradshaw, of
the mounted police, when the thing was
imputed to him, and he never drank
whisky again among them.
Pierre had come from Fort Anne to
Fort O’Angel. While at Fort Anne he had
known an old woman by name of Kitty
\v helan, whose character was all tatters,
and she had told him that many years
agone she had had a broth of a lad for
a. husband, but because of a sharp word
or two across th© tire, and the toss of a
handful of furniture he had left her, and
she had seen no more of him. ‘’Tail, like
a chimney he was,” she said, ‘‘and a chest
like a wall, so broad, and a voice like a
huntsman’s horn, though only a b'y, an’
no hair an’ his face; an’ she didn’t know
whether he was dead or alive; but dead
belike, for he’s sure to come rap agin’,
somethin' that'd kill him; for he, the
darlin’, was that aisy and gentle, he
wouldn't pull his iron till he had death in
his ribs.”
And Pierre drew from her that the name
ot this mu whom she had cajoled Into a
marriage (being herself twenty years
older), and driven to deserting her after
wards, was Tim Macavoy. And knowing
that, he questioned her further, and got
many facts which made the matter cer
tain in his mind. She had married Mr.
Whelan on the assumption that Macavoy
was dead. But Mr. Whelan hud not the
nerve to desert her, and so he departed
tills life, very loudly lamented by Mrs.
Whelan, who had changed her name with
out a right to do so. With his going her
mind dwelt greatly upon the virtues of her
mighty vanished Tim, and ill would it be
for Tim if she found him.
Pierre had journeyed to Fort O’Angel,
almost wholly because he had Macavoy in
his mind; in it Airs. Whelan had only an
incidental part; his plans traveled beyond
her and her lost consort. He was de
termined on an expedition to capture Fort
Comfort which had been abandoned by the
Hudson’s Bay Company, and was now
held by a band of the Shunup Indians.
Fort Comfort was In a country where
the Indians were broken up into quarrell
ing tribes. Pierre had a taste for con
quests for its own sake; while at the
same time he had no ambition. Many a
time it had been said of him by astute men
that, if he chose, he could easily be the
leader of the Halfbreeds and Indians, for
he had brains and all manner of cour
age, and saw plainly where other men
groped. The love of adventure was deep
tn him, hp adored sport for its own sake,
he had hud a long range of experiences,
some discreditable, and now’ 'he had deter
mined on a new field for his talent. He
would justify the hints that had been
thrown out regarding him; but not to the
injury qf the Hudson’s Bay Company or
, .B.lrfii a. kingdom, and,
niayne, resign IE In that case he must
, have a man to Lake his place. But again
he changed his mind on this point. He
would be king-maker only; he hart no per
sonal ambition. So he chose Macavoy.
Together they would go to Fort Comfort,
conquer the Shunups, and—well, there
would be the adventure, which was enough
for the present.
First he must humble Macavoy to the
earth, then make him into a
great man again, with a new
kind of courage. This, too, he
did, as much because his humor was
of the keenest and dryest as for anything
else. He himself "was not in the least a
braggart, and the undoing of Macavoy
seemed a civic virtue. So one day Pierre
had a long talk with ’Wonta, the Indian
maiden most admired by Macavoy. Many
a time the Irishman had cast a rolling
eye on her, ogling her most pleasantly,
and had talked his loudest within her ear
shot, telling of spjendid things he hud
done. It had been seen. If count were
kept of his words, that this man had
been like another Samson as to the de
struction of men and a Hercules as to
the slaying of cattle.
Wonta had a sense of honor, also, and
when Pierre told her what was required
of her she laughed with a quick little
gurgle, and showed as handsome a set of
teeth as the Half-breed’s; which said
much for her. She promised to do as he
wished. So it chanced when Macavoy
was at h«» favorite seat beneath the pine,
talking to a gaping audience, Wonta and
a number of Indian girls passed that way.
Pierre was leaning against a door smok
ing, not tar away. He did not appear to
listen, but still he glanced up closely
from under his slouch-hat, and when
Wonta and the girls came by, lounged
slowly toward the group Macavoy’s voice
had become louder. ” ’Stand them up one
by one,’ says I, 'and give me a leg loose,
and a fist free, and ut that ’ ”
"At that there was thunder and fire in
the sky, and because Macavoy blew his
breath over them they withered like the
leaves,” cried Wonta laughing; but her
laugh had an edge.
N/acavoy stopped short, open-mouthed,
and breathing hard in his great beard.
He whs astonished at Wonta’s raillery; it
sounded almost like contempt; the more so
when she presently snapped her fingers,
and the other maidens, laughing, did the
same. Some of the half-breeds, seeing,
snapped their fingers also in sympathy,
and shrugged their shoulders. Macavoy’s
chest swelled out very fine, and he was
about to say something, when Wonta
came up to him softly, patted him cm the
head, and said: "Like Macavoy there is
nobody. He la a great brave. He is not
afraid of a coyotte, he has killed prai
rie hens in numbers as pebbles by the
lakes. He has a breast like a fat ox—"here
she touches the skin of his broad thest
and he will die if you do not fight him.”
it is not clear how much of this satire
was her own, and how much was
- J auyw »y> when she had
said this, she drew back from Macavoy
as though in humble dread, and glided
away w.th the other maidens, he star
ing after her, with a blustering kind of
shame in his face. The half-breeds
laughed, and one by one. they got up
and walked away also. He looked round;
there was no one near save Pierre, whose
eye rested on him iaxily, as if it took no
- real interest in the incident. Macavoy
i got to his feet, muttering to himself
j This w as the first time in his experience
at Fort O'Angel that he had been bluffed—
and by a girl; one for whom he had a very
soft place in bls big heart. Pierre came
slowly over to him. "I'd have it out with
l her," said he. "She called you a bully
| and a brag.’
"Out with her! Out with her!" cried
: Macavoy. "How c»n ye have It out wld
; a woman*"
I "Fight her," said Pierre pensively '
"Fight her’ tight her! Holy smoko. :
I Hew can you fight a woman?"
it
“Why, what—do you—fight?” asked
Pierre wrtth innocent gaze.
Macavoy grinned in a wild kind of
fashion. “Faith, then, y’are a fool. Bring
on the divil an’ all his angeis, say I, and
I'lj fight them where I stand.”
Pierre reached out and ran his fingers
down the arm of the other, and said,
"There’s time enough for that. I’d be
gin with the five.”
“What five, then?”
“The five who put her up to it. Her
half-breed lovers: Big Eye, One Toe, Jo-
John, Saucy Boy, and Whisky-wine.”
“Her lovers'. Her lovers, Is it? Is
there truth an y’r tongue?”
“Go to her father’s tent at sunset and
you’ll find one or all of them there.”
"Oh, Is that it? Is that it?” said the
Irishman, opening and shutting his fists.
“Then I'll carve their hearts out, an'
ate thim w an by wan this night.”
“Come down to Wiley’s,” said Pierre,
i “there’s better company there than here.”
Pierre had arranged many th.ngs, and
had secured partners in his little scheme
i of humbling the braggart. And he so
worked on the other's good nature that
by r the time they reached the settler’s
place Macavoy was stretching himself
with a big pride. Seated at Wiley’s table
with Hatchett and others near, and drink
going about, someone drew the giant on to
talk, and so deftly and with such apparent
innoence did Pierre, by a word here and a
nod there, encourage him, that presently,
he roared at Wiley and Hatchett, "Ye
shameless buccaneers that push your way
Into the tracks of honest men, an’ where
the company’s been three hundred years
by’ the will o’ God—if it wasn’t for me, ye
Jack Shepherds ”
Here Wiley and Hatchett both got to
their feet with pretended rage, saying
he’d insulted them both, that he was all
froth and brawn, and, in brief, giving him
the lie.
Utterly taken back Macavoy could only
stare, puffing In his beard and drawing in
his legs, which had been spread out at an
gles. He drew his eyes from VvTley to
Pierre, who was impassive. “Buccaneers,
you call us,” V/lley went on; “we'll have
no more of that, or there’ll be trouble at
Fort O’Angel.”
“Ah, sure, y’are only’ jokin’,” said Maca
voy, “for 1 love ye, ye scoundrels, It's
only me fun.”
“For fun like that you’ll pay, you ruf
fian,” said Hatchett, bringing down his
fist on the table with a bang.
Macavoy now stood up, looking put out,
but there was nothing of the coward in his
face. He was only confounded. “Oh,
well,” he said, “I’ll be goin’, for ye’ve got
y’r teeth all raspin’,”
As he went the two men laughed after
him mockingly. “Wind like a bag,” said
Hatchett. “Bone like a marrowfat pea,”
added Wiley.
Macavoy was at the door, but at that he
turned, and .caught Pierre’s eye. Maybe,
what was in it caused him to reply: “If
ye care to sail agin’ that wind, an’ gnaw
on that bone, I’d not be sayin’ you no.”
“Will to-night do—at sunset?” said
Wiley.
Macavoy’s voice had an absent sound.
“Bedad, then, me b’ys, sunset’ll do—an,
not more than two at a time,” he added,
softly, all the roar gone from his throat.
Then he went out, followed by Pierre.
Hatchbl and Wiley looked at each other
and laughed a little confusedly. “What’s
.that he tyj.id ” nwitterad Wey, “Not )nnre
btnan two at*a time, was it-”
“That was It. I don’t know’ that It’s
what we bargained for, after all,” and
he looked round on the other settlers pres
ent who had been awed by the childlike
but earnest note In Macavoy’s last words.
They shook their heads now a little sagely.
They w’ern’t so sure that Pierre’s little
game was as jovial as it had promised.
Meanwhile Pierre, whom Macavoy sud
denly seemed to lean on, so completely
had the half-breed Conquered him by his
quiet .will, was himself a little surprised.
He had hardly look for so much from his
giant as yet/ But he felt that he could
profitably be his king maker in the end.
In a lltlle while he had got Macavoy back
to his old humor.
“What was I made for but war?” he
said, ‘an’ by war to kape thim at peace,
wherever I am."
And as soon as he was sufficiently re
stored in spirits—for you could not de
press hihi, save for a moment—to go with
Pierre to Bareback's lodge', where, sitting
at the tent door, with Idlers about, he
smoked with the chief and his braves.
Again Pierre worked upon him adroitly,
and again he became loud in speech,
great in wonders, and grandly patronising.
“I’ve stood'by ye like a father, ye loaf
ers,” he said, “an' I give you me word,
ye howling rogues ”
But here Bareback and a half dozen !
braves came up suddenly from the ground
and Bareback said fiercely: “You speak '
crooked things. We are no rbgues. We i
will light.” •
Macavoy’s face ran red to his hair. He
* scratched his head a little foolishly, and
gathered himself up. “Sure 'twas only
me fun. darllns.” he said, “but I’ll be com
in again, when y’are not so nervous.”
And he turned to go away.
Pierre made a sign to Bareback, and
i the Indian touched the giant on the arm.
“Will you fight?” he said.
“Not all o’ ye at once," slowly said Mac
avoy, running his eye carefully along the
half dozen; "not more than three at a
time, he added w’ith a simple sincerity
his voice again gone like the dove’s “And
at what time will it be convavnyint for
ye?” he asked.
"At sunset,” said the Indian, “before
the fort.”
Macavoy nodded and walked away, with
Pierre as his comrade. Pierre had, how
ever, thrown a glance of approval at the
Indians, who did not appear perfectly sat
' isfied.
; To rouse the giant's spirits was nbt now
so easy. He was disposed to be thought
ful, for he had already three engagements
for sunset, and they were of an unusual
klnd x Pierre directed their steps by a
roundabout way to the company’s "tores
and there was a dlaUnct improvement in
the giant’s disposition. For here at least
he could be himself, he thought. Here no
one should say him nay. As if nerved by
the idea, he plunged at once into boisterous
raillery of the chief trader.
“Oh, ho,” he began, "me freebooter
me captain av the looters ax- the North ”
But the trader snarled at him. “Wha*
d'ye mean, by such talk to me, sir* I've
had enough—we’ve all had enough—of vour
t brag and bounce; fpr you're all sweat*and
| swill-pipe, and I give you this for your
■ chew ing, that though by the company’s
I rules I can't go out and fight you, you
can have your pick of my men for It, I’ll
take my pay for your insults in pounded
flesh—lrish pemmican!”
It was hard to tell the color of Macavoy’s
face; It w-as mottled with sudden rage He
roared, as perhaps, he had never roared
■ before—
“ Are ye all gone mad—mad—mad! I was
jokin' wid ye, whin I called ye this or
i that. But by the swill o’ me pipe, ana
the sweat e’ me skin. I'll drink the blood
! o' x ees. Trader, me darlin'. An’ all I’ll ask
. I*, that ye mate me to-night whin,the rest
o’ the pack is frontin’ the fort—but not
more ihan four o’ yees at a time—for little
ecrawney rats as y’ are, (oo many o’ yees
1 wa l be in mo way.” And immediately he
SAVANNAH, THURSDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1895.
wheeled and strode fiercely out. Pierre
smiled gently.
“He’s a great bully, that, isn’t he, Trad
er? There’ll be fun in front of the fort to
night. For he’s only bragging, of course—
eh?"
The trader nodded with no great assur
ance, and then Pierre said as a parting
word: “You will be there, of course—only
four of you!" and hurried out after Maca
voy, humming to himself:
“For the king said this, and the queen said
that,
But he walked away with their army O'”
Pierre’s plan had worked so far ’even
better than he expected, though Maca
voy’s moods had not been altogether
after his imaginings. He drew along
side the giant, who had suddenly grown
quiet again. Macavoy turned and looked
down at Pierre with the candid look of
a schoolboy, and his voice was very
low.
“It’s a long time ago, I’m thinking,”
he said, “since I lost me frinds—ages
an’ ages ago. For me frinds are me
inimies now, an’ that makes a man old
But I’ll not say it cripples his arm or
stiffens his back.” Here he drew his
arm up once or twice and shot it out
straight into the air like a catapult.
“It’s all right," he added, very softly,
“an’ Half breed, me boy, if me frinds
have turned inimies, why, I’m thinkin’
me inimy has turned frind, for that I’m
sure you were, an’ this I’m certain y’
are. So here’s the grip av me fist, an’
y’U have it."
He caught Pierre’s delicate firm fin
gers in his own, and Pierre remembered
that grip for many a day. And he laughed
to himself to think how he was turn
ing the braggart into a warrior.
“Well,” said Pierre, “what about those
five at Wonta’s rent?”
“I’ll be there whin the sun dips be
low the little red hill,” he said, as if
his thoughts were far away, and, blow
ing his breath through his beard by
starts, he turned his face toward Wanta’s
tent. Presently he laughed out loud.
“It’s many a long day,” says he, “since
.” Then he changed his thoughts.
“They’ve said sharp words in me teeth,”
he continued, "and they’ll pay for it.
Bounce, sweat! brag! wind.'—is it? There’s
dancin’ beyant this night, me darlins!”
“Are you sure you’ll not run aw'ay
when they come on,” said Pierre, a lit
tle Ironically.
“Is that the word av a frind?” re
plied Macavoy, with a hand fumbling
in his hair.
“Did you never run away when faced?"
Pierre asked, pitilessly.
“I never turned tail from man, though,
to be sure, it’s been more talk than
fight up here; Fort Anne’s been but
a graveyard for fun these years.”
“Eh, well,” persisted Pierre, “but did
you never turn tail from a slip of a
woman?”
The thing was '•aid i ly. Macavoy gath
ered his beard in his mouth and chewed it
confusedly.
"You’ve a keen tongue for a question,”
was his reply. “"What for should any man
run from a woman?”
“When the furniture flies, an’ the woman
knows more of the world in a day than
the man does in a year; and the man’s a
hulking bit of an Irishman—“bien,” then ;
I things are so and so.”
. Ma eayny dr-»w hack wedi his big J
tfetrfb'iljg. “Come into the shade of these
maples,” said Pierre, “for the sun has set
you quaking a little,” and he put out his
hand to take Macavoy’s arm.
The giant drew away from the hand, but
walked on to the trees. His face seemed
to have grown older by years on the mo
ment. .“What’s' this y'are sayin’ to me?”
he said hoarsely. “What do you know
av—av that woman?”
“Malahide is a long way off" said Pierre,
“but when one travels why shouldn't the
other?”
Macavoy made a helpless motion with
his lumbering hand. “Mother o’ saints,”
he said, “has it come to that, after all
these years? Is she—tell me where she is,
me frind, an’ you’ll never want an arm to
fight for ye, an’ wid ye, an’ the half av a
blanket, while I have one! ’
“But you’ll run as you did before, if I
tell you, an’ there’ll be no fighting to
night, according to word you've given.”
“No fightin’ did ye say? an' run away,
is it? Then this in your eye, that if you’ll
bring an army, I’ll fight till the skin is in
rags on me bones, whin it’s only men
that’s before me; but women—and that '
wan! Faith, I’d run, I’m thinkin’, as I !
did, you know when— Don’t tell me that i
she’s here, man; arrah, .don’t say that.
There was something very pitiful and
childlike in the big man’s voice, so much
that Pierre calculating gamester as he
was, and working upon him as he had
been for many weeks, felt a sudden pity,
and dropping his fingers on the other's
arm, said: "No, Macavoy, ’mon am),’ she
i Is not here; but she is at Fort Anne—or
I was when I left there."
Macavoy groaned. "Does she know !
that I’m here?" he asked.
“No, I think not. Fort Anne is far |
away, and she may not hear.”
“What— what is she doing?"
"Keeping your memory and Mr. Whe- 1
lan’s green.” And then Pierre told him
somewhat bluntly what he knew of Mrs.
Macavoy; and during the recital the giant ■
leaned against a tree, and breathed so !
hard that you would have thought him in
bodily pain. Yet he was only distressed i
In mind. I
"I’d rather face Baizeboob than her," he i
said. “An’ she’s sure to find me."
“Not if you <jo as I suy,” suggested !
Pierre.
"An' w-hat is It ye say, little man?’*
“Come away with me where she’ll not
find you.”
“An’ where's that, Pierre, me darlin’?"
“I’ll tell you that when to-nlghVs fight- I
Ing’s over. Have you a mind for Wonta?” i
ho continued.
“I’ve a mind for Wonta an’ many an- ■
other as fine, but I'm a married man," he i
said, “by priest an’ by book, an’ I can’t
forget that, though the woman’s to me as i
the Pit below.”
Pierre looked curiously at him. “You’re
a wonderful fool,” he said, “but I’m not ;
sure that I like you less for that. There i
was Shon McGann—but it is no matter.” I
Here he sighed. “When to-night is over, '
you shall have work and fun that you-ve i
been fattening for this many a year, and
the woman’ll not find you, be sure of that. !
Besides," here he whispered in Macavoy’s
ear.
“Poor dtvll, poor divil. she'd always a
throUt for that; but it’s a horrible death
to die, I’m thinking.” Macavoy’s chin
dropped on his breast.
As he said, when the falling be
low Kittle Red Hill, he came to Wonta’s
tent. Pierre was not far away. What
occurred in the tent- Pierre never quite I
knew, but presently he saw Wonta run i
out in a frightened way. and following
her came the five half-breeds bearing ;
themselves awkwardly, and behind them
again, with head shaking from one side I
to the ether, traveled Macavoy; and they •
all marched away toward the fort. Wonta
saw Pierre, and earae toward him. he also
hurrying toward her. “Well.” he said ten
tatively, “he is amusing, eh?—so big a
coward, eh?”
“No. no," she said, "you are wrong.
He is no coward. He Is a great brave, i
He spoke like a little child, but he said
he would fight them all when ”
“When their time came,” interrupted
Pierre, with a fine “bead” of humor in
his voice; “well, you see he has much to
do.” And he pointed toward the Fort.
At the Fort people were gathering fast;
for the strange news had gone abroad,
and the settlement, laughing joyously,
came to see Macavoy swagger; they did
not think there would be fighting.
But they had only reckoned according
to the grotesqueness of the thing. Those
Whom Macavoy had challenged were not
so sure. When the giant reached the open
space in front of the Fort, he looked
slowly round him. A great change had
come over him. He seemed not so fat
as he had been. His skin seemed drawn
together more firmly, and when he ran
himself finely up to ful hight, he looked
no longer the lounging braggart. Pierre
measured him with his eye, and chuckled
gently to himself. He felt sure of his con
quest of the Shunups now. Macavoy
stripped himself of his coat and waistcoat,
and rolled up his sleeves. His shirt was
flying at the chest.
He saw Pierre and beckoned to him.
“Are you standin' me friend in this,”
he said.
“Now and after,” said Pierre.
His voice was very simple. “I never
felt as I do, since the day the coast
guardsmen dropped on me in Ireland
far away, an’ I drew blood an’ every wan
o’ thim fine, beautiful b’ys they looked—
stretchin’ out on the ground wan by wan.
D'ye know the double and twist?” he
suddenly added, “for it’s a sweet trick
whin they gather <in on you, an’ you can’t
be layin’ out wid your fists. It plays the
divil wid the spines av thim. Will ye hav
a drop av drink—cold water, man—near,
an’ a 'sponge betune whiles. For there’s
many in the play—makin’ up for lost time.
Come on,” he added to two settlers, whom
he sighted, “for ye began the trouble, an’
we’ll settle according to a, b, c.”
Wiley and Hatchett were there. And
responding to this and to a call from the
crowd, they stepped forward, though
they had now little relish for the mat
ter. Pierre’s joke had developed very
seriously. They were pale, but they
stripped their coats and vests, and Wiley
stepped bravely in front of Macavoy.
The giant looked down on him, arms
folded. “I said two of you,” he crooned,
as if speaking to a woman. Hatchett
stepped forward also. An instant after,
and the settlers were lying on the ground
at different angles, bruised and dismayed,
and little likely to carry on the war.
Macavoy took the pail of water provi
ded for him from the ground, drank
from it lightly, and waited. None other
of his opponents stirred. “There’s three
Injuins,” he said, “three rid devils, that
wants to be shown the way to the happy
huntin’ grounds Sure, y’are corn-
in’, me darlins?” he added, coaxing’y,
and he stretched himself, as if to make
ready.
Bareback, the chief, now harangued
the t,hre<M Indians, and thoy stepped
forth warily. They had determined on
strategic wrestling, aiid not on tho in
stant activity of fists. But their wili
ness was useless, for Macavoy’s doub
le-and-twist camo near to lessening the
• Indian population of Fort O’Angel. It only
J broke a leg and an arm. however. He
4 ca.m of the
with a wild kind of light in his eyes,
his beard all torn, and face battered. A
shout of laughter, admiration and won-
I der went up from the crowd. There was
a moment’s pause, and then Macavoy,
whose blood ran high, stood forth again.
The Trader came to him. “Must this
go on?” he said, "haven’t you had your
fill of it?”
He was thinking of his own men, whose
turn should come next. He was most
serious, and so be missed it. Had he
touched Macavoy with a word-of humor
the matter might have ended there; but ,
now the giant spoke loud, so all could i
hear.
“Had me fill av it, Trader, me angel.
I'm only jist gittin’ the taste av it. An’
ye’ll plaze bring on yer men—four it was
—for the feed av Irish pemmlcan.”
Tljp Trader turned and swore at Pierre i
who, however, deprecated his language '
by slight gestures, smiling enigmatically.
And soon after, two of the best fighters of
the company’s men stood forth. Macavoy
i shook his head. “Four,” I said, and four
; I'll have, or I’ll ate ass the heads o’ these.”
Shamed, the Trader sent forth two more,
i All on an instant the four made a rush on
i the giant; and there was a stiff minute
i after, in which it was not clear that he ;
was happy. For blows rattled on him, ;
and one or two got on the head, just as
he tossed a man spinning senseless across '
the grass, which sent him staggering back- .
wards for a moment, sick and stunned, i
But Pierre called over to him swiftly—“Re- ■
member Malahide!"
I It acted on him like a charm. And there
. never was seen such a shattered bundle
of men as came out from his hands a few
i minutes later. As for himself, he had ,
, but rag or two on him, but stood unmind
j ful of his state, and the fever of battle hot
I and untameable on him. The women ■
drew' away.
“Now, me babes o’ the wood,” he shout- ;
I ed, “that sit at the feet av’ the finest ■
I Injin woman in the north—though she’s no ■
< frind o’ mine—and aren’t fit to kiss her
i moccasslons, come on, come on wid you,
; till I have me fun wid your spines.”
But a shout went up, and men pointed.
And there were the five Half-breeds run
! ning away across the plains,
j The game was over.
“Here's some clothes, man; for heaven’s
j sake put. them on," said the Trader.
Then for the first time the giant was
{ conscious of his condition, and like a timid
girl he hurried into the clothing.
The crowd would have carried him on
I their shoulders, but he would have none
i of it. “I’ve only wan friend here,” he said,
’a’n’ it's Pierre, an’ to his shanty I go, an’
i no other.”
And the people of the fort knew how
• Pierre had fooled them.
“Come, my friend,” said Pierre, "for !
te-*morrow we travel far.”
“And w’hat for that,” said Macavoy.
j Pierre whispered in his ear: “To make
| you a king, my lovely bully,”
And how that was done is to be told at
j another time.
(The End.)
NORWAY’S CONSIXAR SYSTEM.
King Oscar Willing to Submit the
Question to a Council.
Christiana, Feb. 3).—in conferring with
Ex-Premier Stein in regard to Norway’s
claim to her own consular system and
j foreign minister, King Oscar has not
I advanced from his previous position i
. of offering to submit the matter to a ]
■ joint Norwegian and Swedish council of
state. Unless an agreement is reached
' on this point, a solution of the differences
with the left is impossible. Ex-Premier
Stein expresses the opinion that King
Oscar’s position will cause the blending
together of all Norwegians, on behalf of
their fatherland, as the king has repudi
ated what Norway has maintained to be
i her inalienable right.
SALE OF THE NEW BONDS.
j The Loan Subscribed for Many Times
Over.
New York, Feb. 20.—The subscription
books for the $62,315,000 United States four
per cents were opened promptly at 10
o’clock this morning at the office of J.
Pierrepont Morgan & Co., and just 22 min
utes later the subscriptions were closed.
There was little or no excitement at the
office of Morgan & Co., in fact the attend
ance there was about the same as on
ordinary business days. This was ac
counted for by the fact that the bulk
of the bids were sent in by mail and for
this reason to-day’s performance was
looked upon as a mere formality, to use
the expression of one of the leading
members of the syndicate. The bonds
were subscribed for at least ten times
over and the loan in every particular has
ben an normous success. Mr. Morgan is
authority for the statement that no de
tails will be given out until Saturday,
when the allotments are to be made. The
bonds sold at foui’ per cent, premium in
London to-day and 116 was bid on the
street here this morning. (
A principal member of the syndicate
is authority for the statement that the
enormous oyer-subscriptlon of the bonds
was astounding even to the syndicate.
The success of the whole deal abroad can
not be measured in the immediate connec
tion with the sale of the bonds.
It is anticipated that it will revive the
interest in American securities and stim
ulate an interest in our railroad securi
ties such as has not existed Since the Bar
ing panic, thus turning the real balance
of exchange in our favor so that when
exports of breadstuff's begin next fall the
natural flow of gold will once more be to
ward the United States, The strain up
on our gold holdings will thus be relieved
for the first time in two years.
The gold payments of the Morgan-
Belmont syndicate due from this country
were completed this morning. Mr. Mor
gan, finding that there, was a surplus
of $1,123,000 gold on hand, turned it over
to the subtreasury at 2 o’clock, and took
legal tenders in exchange. ,
When the whole transaction is com
pleted It is expected that the syndicate
will turn in between- $75,000,000 and SBO,OOO,-
■ ouo in gold, as all payments for subscrip
tions made tn gold will be handed over
to the subtreasury.
Washington, Feb. 20.—United States
I Treasurer Jordan sent this telegram to
■ Assistant Secretary Curtis this afternoon:
New York, Fob. 20, 2:30 p. m.— Inform the
Secretary that the syndicate have com
pleted the matter of the purchase of gold
coin on this side and have now turned in
I $1,123,000 gold coin in exchange for United ;
States notes in excess of the cdntract.
This is understood to mean that $30,000,-
: 000 in gold have been secured by the Bel
’ mont-Morgnn syndicate in America for
payment of the bonds, the balance, nearly
$35,000,0(0. having been secured in London,
; when more than four times the allotment
for that side was subscribed for. So far
$23,052,870 in gold have been received by the
treasury from the -syndicate and $22,060,-
820 in certificates issued to ft. *lt will prob
ably he several weeks before the bonds
: arc feady for delivery. - * ' “
London, Feb. 20.—The subscriptions to
! the new United States loan closed at noon
to-day. Figures are not available, but a
I prominent financial firm believes the
' amount, agreed to be taken here has been
covered more than ten times. Evening
• newspapers agree that the loan is a com
plete success. On the stock exchange the
bonds are known as the “New Yankees."
The Pall Mall Gazette, commenting on
the taking of the loan says the success
is due to Haute finance and. not to the
ordinary investor, who refrained from
■ investing, fearing that, the loan will not
, be paid in gold. The great success of the
loan is, therefore, all the more a triumph
I for those who are managing It and for the
: credit of the United States.
The loan prospectus was Issued very
late yesterday afternoon and a regular
tight ensued at Morgan’s for places in the
line, and this morning there was a re
newed rush of subscribers. The premium
at one time after noon reached 4%.
The Daily Graphic will say to-morrow:
“Before the lists for the American loan
had been open two hours the loan was
covered fifteen times over. There is notfi-
Ing surprisng in this, however, as both
the security and interest In this invest
| meat are exceptional. Every credit is
I due Mr. Cleveland for the tenacity and re
l source which he has staved off what
might have been a serious disaster.”
The Standard will say to-morrow: "Es
timates vary as to the number of times
the loan was covered, the highest being
! thirty, and the lowest five. According
to the general opinion it is between ten
and twenty. The dealings were just as
active as the applications."
j The Dally News will say: “There Is
i reason to believe that the part of the
[ American loan offered here was covered
nearly fifteen times, irrespective of any
applications that may arrive from the
i country. The allotment letters probably
will be issued next week."
BLEW OUT HIS BRAINS.
The First Secretary of the Russian
Legation Commits Suicide.
Washington, Feb. 20.—P. Bogdanoff,
first secretary of the Russian legation,
shot himself with a pistol this morning
at 10 o’clock, in his sleeping apartment,
and died instantly. The only cause as
signed for the deed is that he had suf
fered from nuralgla since he came to
Washington a month ago.
This morning, shortly before 30 o’clock,
: the maid at the lodgings visited his rooms
and took his order for breakfast. When
she returned fifteen minutes later she
was astonished to find him dead, no noise
I having been heard in the meantime. From
i the circumstances, however, no doubt is
i entertained that the fatal shot was fired
I by his own hand.
Bogdanoff was. until recently, the Rus
sian charge d’affairs at Rio de Janeiro,
Brazil, where he ably represented his
country during the revolution. He was
about 42 years old, and in addition to j
considerable private means had a hand- j
I some salary on account of his position. ‘
He was a bachelor, his family consisting i
of brothers and sisters residing in Mos
cow. Ever since his arrival in Washing
ton he had been afflicted with a severe
form of neuralgia, which he attributed to
the sudden change from the climate of
Rio to that of Washington, which has
' lately been intensely cold. After the cor
oner’s inquest, held this afternoon. Prince
I Cantacuzene, Russian minister, took
s charge of the remains.
I A Public Building for Brunswick.
Washington, Feb. 30.—1 n the Senate to
day Senator Gordon introduced a bill
providing for the erection of a public >
building at Brunswick, Ga., at a cost not
to exceed i
WEEKLY, (S-TIMES-A-WEEK) 81A YEAR. 1
? 5 GENTS A COPY. I
! DAILY, 110 A YEAR. f
MONDAYS
-AND
THURSDAYS
———————— •- - - - ■ ■ .. .
MADLY IN LOVE WITH MADGE.
GENTRY TELLS THE STORY OF THIS
MLHDER.
Had Traveled All the Way From
Boston to Meet Her-Fafiing to
Find Her in New York, He Went ob
to Philadelphia in a Jealous Rage
Expecting to Find Her With An-,
other Man—Her Refusal to Kiss
Him Followed by the Fatal Shot.
Philadelphia, Pa., Feb. 20.-James B.
Gentry, the murderer of Margaret Win
ifred Drysdale (Madge Yorke), who was
captured here early this morning, with
his skull fractured, a rib in his right slda
broken, and with three superficial wounds
over his heart, is in a semi-conscioua
condition at the German hospital. The
doctors state that while the man la seri
ously injured, the fractured skull and
broken rib being caused by his jumping
from a window in escaping from the ho
tel, after the murder, and the wound over
his heart being inflicted with a pen
knife, with suicidal intent, he has an event
chance for recovery. Gentry is guarded!
by two policemen and the hospital author
ities will not allow anyone to communi
cate with him. As he is only conscious
at intervals it is probable that no con
nected statement regarding the tragedy
could be obtained from him were admls<
sion to the room in which he is confined
allowed.
Gentry has frequent periods of deleri
ousness, and while in that state he talks
incoherently of “Madge.” The excite
ment to which the murderer was sub
jected from Sunday night until after
midnight this morning and lack of foot?
has greatly weakened him, but the doc->
tors think that after he shall have re
ceived sufficient stimulants that this will
be, overcome. In case Gentry should live
it will probably be a week or more before
he can be pronounced out of danger. Tha
police have notified his relatives.
Magistrate Milligan, accompanied by his
clerk, John Moffiet, Miss Lida Clark, the
sole witness to the shooting of Miss Drys
dall, and Detective Murray, went to tha
German hospital at noon and the magis
trate gave Gentry a formal preliminary:
hearing, holding him to await the action
of the coroner’s jury. The murderer was
conscious of the proceedings.
Gentry then made a deposition of tha
tragedy, which was reduced to writing by
Clerk Moffet, as follows: “I was insane
; ly jealous. I had known Madge Drysdall
since August, 1893. We became friendly
and were engaged to be married, and she
wore my ring on her finger. She also
bought me a ring, which she patd over
SIOO for. I was to have met her in New York
on Sunday. Her letters hsfti turned cold,
and I had wired her a number of times to
let me know the cause of the sudden
change, which was natural, my thinking
as much of her os I did. Her telegram
read: ‘12:03, 1 leave here at 10.’ I had
Journeyed all nfghfy from ißeston, and.
was very sleepy when 1 got to New York,
and did not get there until 12:43. I ar
rived there and did not see anything of
her on the ,12:43 boat. I could not do any
thing, was a complete wreck, and went, to
her father’s house and asked if he had
heard anything of hei” coming to him. He
said no; I had better go down again; there
was some more trains and I might meet
her. I went down again, and not seeing
her, bought a round trip ticket and took a
train for Philadelphia. In the meantime,
I had been drinking on being disappointed.
On arriving in Philadelphia, I went to the
Irving house and then to Miss Dietrich,
and heard she was next door. I went into
Zeiss’, met Mr. Zeiss and asked where was
Miss Yorke's room. I had a pistol in my
pocket, which I had borrowed from a man
named Hackett, in our company. I said,
in my mind, I may have to shoot some
Romeo in the foot. I fully expected to
find a man in her room, a little blonde
fellow. I went upstairs and walked into
the room, and when I saw her was very*
much excited. I said: ‘Well, darling, I
have come.’
“I lived on beef and clam broth for a)
week previous. I was completely upset*
I said: ‘Are you glad to see me?’
“She seemed to be awfully disappolntMl
at my appearance. She said, “Oh, why*
what are you doing here?'
“I said: “Darling, won’t you klas me?*
“She said: T will not (as I remember)*
I said: ‘You won’t?’
“She replied: ‘No.’ These seemed to be
her last words, and the result followed, t
was Insanely jealous. I had no intention;
of shooting her when I left Boston. But
I was so enraged, for I loved the womajn.**
The physicians under whom Gentry is
being treated, this afternoon gave out this
statement of his injuries: “Gentry haa
two lacerated wounds of the scalp with
a fracture of the outer table of the skulL
Ho has one fracture tn the rib, pene
trating the pleura, the lining of the chest.
He has three slight stab wounds over the
region of the heart, and numerous con
tusions and abrasions of the body. The
most serious of his physical injuries is
the bro-ken rib, penetrating the pleura.
The wound permits the air tot
enter underneath the skin and
to produce emphysema. But the
fracture of the skull is not serious. Hie
real condition is more one of general ex
haustion than anything else. His chances
for recovery are even. If he has the
stamina of constitution to pull him
through the issue, of course, will be
favorable. All depends upon this. He is
suffering from exposure more than from
actual Injuries.”
SEALS OF BERING SEA
f
President Cleveland Issues the An
nan 1 Proclamation.
Washington, Feb. 20.—President Cleve
land has issued his annual proclamation
in regard to the fur seals. The document,
which is dated Feb. 18, but is only to-day
made public, differs in no respect (ex
cept in date and signatures) from previous
proclamations issued by the United States.
The provisions of section 1,956, revised
statutes, and of section 3, of the act of
March 2, 1889, are quoted. Those provis
ions forbid, under penalty of fine and Im
prisonment, the unauthorized killing of
any fur seal within the territory of Alas
ka "or the waters thereof” at any time,
and prohibit all unauthorised persons from
entering the waters of Bering Sea for this
purpose. The proclamation simply fol
lows the lines of the revised
statutes of the United States and
makes no reference to the schedules of
the Paris tribunal of arbitration, wh'cli
established a forbidden zone of sixty
miles around the Prlbyloff Islands, and
only prohibits the kHiing In Bering 3e*
outside that zone between May I and Juljf
< 31 of each year.
NO. 14.