With
Harriet Penny hysterical and excited, Big Lena more glum and taciturn
than usual, the Louchoux girl cowering in mortal dread of impending
disaster, and Chloe herself disgusted, discouraged, nursing in her
heart a consuming rage against Brute MacNair, the man who had wrought
the harm, and who had been her evil genius since she had first set foot
into the North.
Upon the afternoon of the day she despatched LeFroy to Fort Resolution
with the wounded officer of the Mounted, Chloe stood at her little
window gazing out over the wide sweep of the river and wondering how it
all would end. Would MacNair find Lapierre, and would he kill him? Or
would the Mounted heed the urgent appeal she despatched in care of
LeFroy and arrive in time to recapture MacNair before he came upon his
victim?
"If I only knew where to find him," she muttered, "I could warn him of
his danger."
The next moment her eyes widened with amazement, and she pressed her
face close against the glass; across the clearing from the direction of
the river dashed a dog-team, with three men running before and three
behind, while upon the sled, jaunty and smiling, and debonair as ever,
sat Pierre Lapierre himself.
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