As I am at fault, so would
I heal that fault. This the way I find given me. When I spring for our
friend of the painted feather, do you, M'sieu, waiting for nothing,
take to the bush with all the speed there is in you. And before we part
know that, were we free, I would punish you as man to man for that
moment before the gate of De Seviere with all pleasure."
"Ah! You refer to Ma'amselle Le Moyne? By what right?"
"By the right of love, whose advances were more than half-reciprocated
before the advent of your accursed red flowers,--the right of man to
fight for his woman."
"Nom de Dieu!" De Courtenay threw back his head and laughed, the flecks
of light from the fire flittering across his handsome features. "You
speak a lost cause, my friend! She was mine since that first morning by
your well when the high head bent to my hand. What a woman she is,--
Maid of the Long Trail, Spirit of the Woods and Lakes! A lioness with a
dove's heart! I have seen the Queen of the World in this God-forsaken
wilderness; therefore is it worth while."
"Stop!" cried McElroy sharply; "let the old wound be. Only make ready
to act at once."
"Aye,--I am ready now.
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