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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

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


Neither of them saw a dark form standing back out of the moonlight,
inside the door. At last Cameron spoke.
"Now what the deuce does all this mean?" he said slowly. "Is this girl
by any unhappy chance engaged to you?"
"Yes, she is--or was as good as, till you came; but you listen to me. As
God hears me up there"--he raised his shaking hand and pointed up to
the moonlit sky, and then went on, chewing on his words like a dog on
a bone--"I'll cut the heart out of your body if I catch you monkeying
round that girl again. You've got to get out of here! Everything was all
right till you came sneaking in. You've got to get out! You've got to
get out! D'yeh hear me? You've got to get out!"
His voice was rising, mad rage was seizing him again, his fingers were
opening and shutting like a man in a death agony.
Cameron glanced towards the door.
"I'm done," said Perkins, noting the glance. "That's my last word. You'd
better quit this job." His voice again took on an imploring tone. "You'd
better go or something will sure happen to you. Nobody will miss you
much, except perhaps Mandy." His ghastly face twisted into a snarling
smile, his eyes appeared glazed in the moonlight, his voice was
husky--the man seemed truly insane.
Cameron stood observing him quietly when he had ceased speaking.


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