Young Aleck had been writing something with his finger-nail on the frost
of the pane, over and over again. When Pierre spoke to him thus he
scratched out the word he had written, with what seemed unnecessary
force. But in one corner it remained:
"Mab--"
Pierre added: "That is what they say at Humphrey's ranch."
"Who says that at Humphrey's?--Pierre, you lie!" was the sharp and
threatening reply. The significance of this last statement had been
often attested on the prairies by the piercing emphasis of a six-
chambered revolver. It was evident that Young Aleck was in earnest.
Pierre's eyes glowed in the shadow, but he idly replied:
"I do not remember quite who said it. Well, 'mon ami,' perhaps I lie;
perhaps. Sometimes we dream things, and these dreams are true. You call
it a lie--'bien!' Sergeant Fones, he dreams perhaps Old Aleck sells
whisky against the law to men you call whisky runners, sometimes to
Indians and half-breeds--halfbreeds like Pretty Pierre. That was a dream
of Sergeant Fones; but you see he believes it true. It is good sport,
eh? Will you not take--what is it?--a silent partner? Yes; a silent
partner, Old Aleck.
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