is dead or alive; but dead belike,
for he's sure to come rap agin' somethin' that'd kill him; for he, the
darlin', was that aisy and gentle, he wouldn't pull his fightin' iron
till he had death in his ribs."

Pierre had drawn from her that the name of this man whom she had cajoled
into a marriage (being herself twenty years older), and driven to
deserting her afterwards, was Tim Macavoy. She had married Mr. Whelan on
the assumption that Macavoy was dead. But Mr. Whelan had not the nerve
to desert her, and so he departed this life, very loudly lamented by
Mrs. Whelan, who had changed her name with no right to do so. With his
going her mind dwelt greatly upon the virtues of her mighty vanished
Tim: and ill would it be for Tim if she found him.

Pierre had travelled to Fort O'Angel almost wholly because he had Tim
Macavoy in his mind: in it Mrs. Whelan had only an incidental part; his
plans journeyed beyond her and her lost consort. He was determined on
an expedition to capture Fort Comfort, which had been abandoned by the
great Company, and was now held by a great band of the Shunup Indians.

Pierre had a taste for conquest for its own sake, though he had no
personal ambition. The love of adventure was deep in him; he adored
sport for its own sake; he had had a long range of experiences--some
discreditable--and now he had determined on a new field for his talent.

He would establish a kingdom, and resign it. In that case he must have a
man to take his place. He chose Macavoy.

First he must humble the giant to the earth, then make him into a great
man again, with a new kind of courage. The undoing of Macavoy seemed
a civic virtue. He had a long talk with Wonta, the Indian maiden most
admired by Macavoy. Many a time the Irishman had cast an ogling, rolling
eye on her, and had talked his loudest within her ear-shot, telling of
splendid things he had done: making himself like another Samson as to
the destruction of men, and a Hercules as to the slaying of cattle.

Wonta had a sense of humour also, and when Pierre told her what was
required of her, she laughed with a quick little gurgle, and showed as
handsome a set of teeth as the half-breed's; which said much for her.
She promised to do as he wished. So it chanced when Macavoy was at his
favourite seat beneath the pine, talking to a gaping audience, Wonta and
a number of Indian girls passed by. Pierre was leaning against a door
smoking, not far away. Macavoy's voice be