Prev | Current Page 117 | Next

Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Courage of Marge O'Doone"

A little
later David ate as though he had gone hungry all day. Ordinarily he
wanted his meat well done; to-night he devoured an inch-and-a quarter
sirloin steak that floated in its own gravy, and was red to the heart of
it. When they had finished they lighted their pipes and went out to feed
the dogs a frozen fish apiece.
An immense satisfaction possessed David. It was like something soft and
purring inside of him. He made no effort to explain things. He was
accepting facts, and changes. He felt bigger to-night, as though his
lungs were stretching themselves, and his chest expanding. His fears
were gone. He no longer saw anything to dread in the white wilderness.
He was eager to go on, eager to reach Tavish's. Ever since Father Roland
had spoken of Tavish that desire had been growing within him. Tavish had
not only come from the Stikine River; he had lived on Firepan Creek. It
was incredible that he should not know of the Girl: who she was; just
where she lived; why she was there. White people were few in that far
country. Tavish would surely know of her. He had made up his mind that
he would show Tavish the picture, keeping to himself the manner in which
he had come into possession of it. The daughter of a friend, he would
tell them--both Father Roland and Tavish.


Pages:
105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129