FullReads

Galloir stopped, and lighted his pipe, and was so long silent that Medallion had to jog him into speaking. He puffed the smoke so that his face was in the cloud, and he said through it: “No, he did not strike. He get to his feet and spoke: ‘God forgive her!’ like that, and come and take up the book again, and read. He eat and drunk, and read the book again, and I know by his face that something more than cold was clamp his heart.

“‘Shall we bury him in the snow?’ I say. ‘No,’ he spoke, ‘let him sit there till the Judgmen’. This is a wonderful book, Galloir,’ he went on. ‘He was a brave man, but the rest–the rest!’–then under his breath almost: ‘She was so young–but a child.’ I not understand that. We start away soon, leaving the thing there. For four days, and then I see that the White Chief will never get back to Fort Pentecost; but he read the dead man’s book much….”

“I cannot forget that one day. He lies down looking at the world–nothing but the waves of snow, shining blue and white, on and on. The sun lift an eye of blood in the north, winking like a devil as I try to drive Death away by calling in his ear. He wake all at once; but his eyes seem asleep. He tell me to take the book to a great man in Montreal–he give me the name. Then he take out his watch–it is stop–and this knife, and put them into my hands, and then he pat my shoulder. He motion to have the bag drawn over his head. I do it…. Of course that was the end!”

“But what about the book?” Medallion asked.

“That book? It is strange. I took it to the man in Montreal–tonnerre, what a fine house and good wine had he!–and told him all. He whip out a scarf, and blow his nose loud, and say very angry: ‘So, she’s lost both now! What a scoundrel he was!…’ Which one did he mean? I not understan’ ever since.”