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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

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


"Are you mad, Perkins?" he cried, catching the terrific blow that came
crashing down, upon the chair.
Then, filled with indignant rage at the murderous attack upon him, and
suddenly comprehending the desperate nature of the situation, he sprang
at his antagonist, thrusting the remnants of the chair in his face and,
following hard and fast upon him, pushed him backward and still backward
till, tripping once more, he fell supine among the pots and pans.
Seizing the axe that had dropped from his enemy's hand, Cameron hurled
it far beyond the wood pile and then stood waiting, a cold and deadly
rage possessing him.
"Come on, you dog!" he said through his shut teeth. "You have been
needing this for some time and now you'll get it."
"What is it, Joe?"
Cameron quickly turned and saw behind him Mandy, her face blanched, her
eyes wide, and her voice faint with terror.
"Oh, nothing much," said Cameron, struggling to recover himself.
"Perkins stumbled over the tub among the pots and pans there. He made
a great row, too," he continued with a laugh, striving to get his voice
under control.
"What is it, Joe?" repeated Mandy, approaching Perkins. But Perkins
stood leaning against the corner of the porch in a kind of dazed
silence.
"You've been fighting," she said, turning upon Cameron.


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