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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

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


"Oh!" wailed Mandy, wringing her hands. "I know you're going to fight
him. I don't want you to! Do you hear me?" she cried, suddenly gripping
Cameron again by the arm and shaking him. "I don't want you to! Promise
me you won't!" She was in a transport of fear.
"Oh, this is nonsense, Mandy," said Cameron, laughing at her. "There
won't be any fight. I'll run away."
"All right," replied the girl quietly, releasing his arm. "Remember you
promised." She turned from him.
"Good night, Mandy. We will finish our lesson another time, eh?" he said
cheerfully.
"Good night," replied Mandy, dully, and passed through the kitchen and
into the house.
Cameron watched her go, then poured for himself a glass of milk from a
pitcher that always stood upon the table for any who might be returning
home late at night, and drank it slowly, pondering the situation the
while.
"What a confounded mess it is!" he said to himself. "I feel like cutting
the whole thing. By Jove! That girl is getting on my nerves! And that
infernal bounder! She seems to--Poor girl! I wonder if he has got any
hold on her. It would be the greatest satisfaction in the world to teach
HIM a few things too. But I have made up my mind that I am not going to
end up my time here with any row, and I'll stick to that; unless--" and,
with a tingling in his fingers, he passed out into the moonlight.


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