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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

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


Through the harangues of Little Thunder and Louis the half-breed Raven
stood calmly regarding them, his hands on his hips. He knew well, as did
the men watching from above, that all that stood between him and death
were those same two hands and the revolvers in his belt, whose butts
were snugly nosing up to his fingers. Little Thunder had too often seen
those fingers close and do their deadly work while an eyelid might wink
to venture any hasty move.
"Is that all?" said Raven at last.
Little Thunder made one final appeal, working himself up into a fine
frenzy of passion. Then Raven made reply.
"Listen to me!" he said. "It is all folly, mad folly! And besides," and
here his voice rang out like a trumpet, "I am for the Queen, God bless
her!" His figure straightened up, his hands dropped on the butts of his
guns.
"By Jove!" exclaimed Cameron. "Isn't that great?"
"Very fine, indeed," said the Inspector softly. Both men's guns were
lined upon the conspirators.
Then the half-breed spoke, shrugging his shoulders in contempt.
"Let heem go. Bah! No good." He spat upon the ground.
Raven stood as he was for a few moments, smiling.
"Good-bye, all," he said. "Bon jour, Louis. Let no man move! Let no man
move! I never need to shoot at a man twice. Little Thunder knows.


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