Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 73: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

HIS SIDE heart—mon Dieu, it is Canuck Gulch that to him will teach it. I bid you adieu, madame.” He stepped aside. Another grotesque salutation and he had squirmed his way downward among the bushes and out of sight as silently and deftly as a snake. Not a little shaken, Amy hunted up the construction foreman with breathless ques- tions on her lips. Darrell had lived in or near the river village all his life, and if anybody could give her the information she sought, he was the one. For the present she thought it best not to tell Neil of her encounter. “Canuck Gulch?” Darrell repeated. “ Don’t tell me ez how they’ve been in- — sultin’ ye, Mrs. Beach, or—” 7 “No, oh, no,” Amy reassured him with assumed lightheartedness. Briefly she touched upon her recent experience as if it were nothing more than an amusing inci- dent. ‘I’ve only a bit of curiosity as to what or who these gully people are, Mr. Darrell. Please satisfy it.” Darrell leisurely removed his glasses. ‘‘ A scurvy lot,’ was his comment. “ An eyesore in the river village, ef e’er there be one. Ye see, they’re a ‘ throw back’ from the early decent French-Canadian set- tlers. Powerful strain of Indian in their make-up, they say. It’s this red streak as works the very devil with ’em. Time an’ agin we've tried to git rid of ’em, but the squatters won’t budge. They'll keep on stickin’, I s’pose, ez long ez they know they ben’t wanted.”’ ‘“* But tell me,” persisted Amy, “‘ what do they do that is so bad? Do they steal or—=” ‘* Steal?” broke in Darrell drvly. ‘‘ Ye’ve said it, Mrs. Beach. Why, thievin’s their fust, last, an’ middle name. Nothin’s safe from the mongrels’ light fingers. The head o’ the gang—the one I take it spoke to ye— is Pierre Chinaux in his own lingo, though gen’ally he goes by the name o’ Black Pete. He leads, the rest foller. He supplies the wits, t’others carry out his rascally com- mands.” ‘‘ Are there women?” asked Amy. ‘So called,” was Darrell’s unflattering reply. ‘‘ Ev'ry whit ez bad ez the men. PARTNER. 63 Take that beady-eyed wife o’ Black Pete’s, fur instance. She’s a reg’lar fury, a genu- ine vixen.”’ ‘But there’s always the church with these French-Canadians,”’ went on Amy. ‘““T’ve heard their priests have the most absolute influence over their parishioners— that only a word will keep them subdued and straight.” ‘“ Of the better sort—yes. But not these. Pére Laloire—he’s the priest in the nearest border settlement—has done his darndest fur ’em, but he ended by throwin’ up his hands. Nothin’ counts with ’em ’cept one thing.” “ And that is—” Amy eagerly questioned. ‘* Superstition.” ‘“What!.. With lawless men of that stamp?” “It’s allus their kind what is supersti- tious. It’s their very breath. The stars, the clouds, the cards—all these Black Pete keeps tabs on, an’ ‘less they pass out the right dope, there’s nothin’ doin’. Omens an’ signs are feared a powerful sight more than the sheriff.” Darrell shook his head. ‘“ Hope Mr. Beach don’t hev no trouble wi’ the varmint,” he concluded. “ But ef he don’t, he’ll be the fust one ez ain’t. A scurvy lot, I’m tellin’ ye, Mrs. Beach, a scurvy lot.” Amy’s heart sank. The possibility of the Canuck Gulch undesirables coming in contact with the Beach works filled her with disquiet. A nameless but unshakable fear spoiled her day—and many days thereafter. Try as she would, she could not wholly re- move from her mind the picture of a sullen, squat figure obstructing the road or forget the threatening words: “If people give, bien. If people give not, we take, tout de méme, It is well, madame, you tell that to monsieur, For, if he has not of kindness of heart—mon Dieu, it is Canuck Gulch that to him will teach it.” She had not many days to wait before the taking process, of which Black Pete had boasted, began. Neil came home to supper one night with a deep frown on his usually humorous face. The forced smile with which he greeted Amy did not deceive her. ** Remember,” she cautioned, “I’m the CONMUC NOOLK C©