im and took him to the camp of the White Hand Indians,
and cared for him there, and sent him safely on his way again to Fort
Luke.

"Sorra wan did I ever see like him," said Shon, "with a face that was
divil this minute and saint the next; pale in the cheek, and black
in the eye, and grizzled hair flowin' long at his neck and lyin' like
snakes on his shoulders; and whin his fingers closed on yours, bedad!
they didn't seem human at all, for they clamped you so cold and strong."

"'For they clamped you so cold and strong,'" replied Pierre, mockingly,
yet greatly interested, as one could see by the upward range of his eye
towards Shon. "Well, what more?"

"Well, squeeze the acid from y'r voice, Pierre; for there's things that
better become you: and listen to me, for I've news for all here at the
Fort, before I've done, which'll open y'r eyes with a jerk."

"With a wonderful jerk, hold! let us prepare, messieurs, to be waked
with an Irish jerk!" and Pierre pensively trifled with the fringe
on Shon's buckskin jacket, which was whisked from his fingers with
smothered anger. For a few moments he was silent; but the eager looks of
the Chief Factor and Lazenby encouraged him to continue. Besides, it was
only Pierre's way--provoking Shon was the piquant sauce of his life.

"Lyin' awake I was," continued Shon, "in the middle of the night, not
bein' able to sleep for a pain in a shoulder I'd strained, whin I heard
a thing that drew me up standin'. It was the sound of a child laughin';
so wonderful and bright, and at the very door of me tent it seemed. Then
it faded away till it was only a breath, lovely, and idle, and swingin'.
I wint to the door and looked out. There was nothin' there, av coorse."
"And why 'av coorse'"? rejoined Pierre. The Chief Factor was intent on
what Shon was saying, while Lazenby drummed his fingers on the table,
his nose in the air.

"Divils me darlin', but ye know as well as I, that there's things in the
world neither for havin' nor handlin'. And that's wan of thim, says I to
meself.... I wint back and lay down, and I heard the voice singin' now
and comin' nearer and nearer, and growin' louder and louder, and then
there came with it a patter of feet, till it was as a thousand children
were dancin' by me door. I was shy enough, I'll own; but I pulled aside
the curtain of the tent to see again: and there was nothin' beyand for
the eye. But the singin' was goin' past and recedin' as before, till it
died