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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

"Corporal Cameron of the North West Mounted Police; a tale of the Macleod trail"


"Say, young feller!" panted Haley, staggering to his feet, "yeh came in
mighty slick that time. Yeh ain't got a bottle on ye, hev yeh?"
"No!" said Cameron, "but there's a pump near by."
"Jest as good and a little better," said Haley, staggering towards the
pump. "Say," he continued, with a humourous twinkle in his eye, and
glancing at the man lying on the ground, "Sam's kinder quiet, ain't he?
Run agin something hard like, I guess."
Cameron filled a bucket with water and into its icy depths Haley plunged
his head.
"Ow! that's good," he sputtered, plunging his head in again and again.
"Fill 'er up once more!" he said, wiping off his face with a big red
handkerchief. "Now, I shouldn't wonder if it would help Sam a bit."
He picked up the bucket of water and approached Sam, who meantime had
got to a sitting position and was blinking stupidly around.
"Here, ye blamed hog, hev a wash, ye need it bad!" So saying, Haley
flung the whole bucket of water over Sam's head and shoulders. "Fill
'er up again," he said, but Sam had had enough, and, swearing wildly,
gasping and sputtering, he made off down the lane.
"I've heard o' them circus toughs," said Haley in a meditative tone,
"but never jest seen 'em before. Say, young feller, yeh came in mighty
handy fer me a' right, and seeing as yer Tim's friend put it there.


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Kody Do Gier
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