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London, Jack

"The Son Of The Wolf"

The two turning in by the door are the regulation 'breeds' or Boisbrules. That lad with the worsted breech scarf- notice his eyebrows and the turn of his jaw- shows a Scotchman wept in his mother's smoky tepee. And that handsome looking fellow putting the capote under his head is a French half-breed- you heard him talking; he doesn't like the two Indians turning in next to him. You see, when the 'breeds' rose under the Riel the full-bloods kept the peace, and they've not lost much love for one another since.'


? ? ? ? 'But I say, what's that glum-looking fellow by the stove? I'll swear he can't talk English. He hasn't opened his mouth all night.'


? ? ? ? 'You're wrong. He knows English well enough. Did you follow his eyes when he listened? I did. But he's neither kith nor kin to the others. When they talked their own patois you could see he didn't understand. I've been wondering myself what he is. Let's find out.'


? ? ? ? 'Fire a couple of sticks into the stove!' Malemute Kid commanded, raising his voice and looking squarely at the man in question.


? ? ? ? He obeyed at once.


? ? ? ? 'Had discipline knocked into him somewhere.' Prince commented in a low tone.


? ? ? ? Malemute Kid nodded, took off his socks, and picked his way among recumbent men to the stove.


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