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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Courage of Marge O'Doone"

If it was summer
they would take it away on pack horses. What would they do with so much
liquor, she wondered? A little of it made such a beast of Hauck, and a
beast of Brokaw, and it drove the Indians wild. Hauck would no longer
allow the Indians to drink it at the Nest. They had to take it away with
them--into the mountains. Just now there was quite a number of the
"miners" down from the north, ten or twelve of them. She had not been
afraid when Nisikoos, her aunt, was alive. But now there was no other
woman at the Nest, except an old Indian woman who did Hauck's cooking.
Hauck wanted no one there. And she was afraid of those men. They all
feared Hauck, and she knew that Hauck was afraid of Brokaw. She didn't
know why, but he was. And she was afraid of them all, and hated them
all. She had been quite happy when Nisikoos was alive. Nisikoos had
taught her to read out of books, had taught her things ever since she
could remember. She could write almost as well as Nisikoos. She said
this a bit proudly. But since her aunt had gone, things were terribly
changed. Especially the men. They had made her more afraid, every day.
"None of them is like you," she said with startling frankness, her eyes
shining at him.


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