Part 4 (1/2)

Then Shorty took the floor. ”Boys,” he yelled, ”we won't stand for it.

No Indian's going to be head of this school, and s.h.a.g Larocque isn't even a decent Indian, he's a halfbreed, a French halfbreed, he's--”

The door burst open and Hal Bennington flung himself into the room; his trousers were dragged up over his nights.h.i.+rt, his feet were in slippers without socks, his hair was unbrushed, his eyes were brilliant with fever, his face was pinched and grey; but his voice rang out powerfully, ”Stop it, boys!” He had taken in the situation instantly--the crowd breaking from all rule, two masters endeavoring to restore order, and s.h.a.g, alone, terribly alone, his back to the wall, his face to the tumult, standing like a wild thing driven into a corner, but yet gloriously game. ”Shorty, how dare you speak of s.h.a.g Larocque like that?” Hal cried furiously.

”And how dare you support him?” Shorty flung back. ”How dare you ask us to have as our leader a halfbreed North-West Indian, who is the son of your father's cook?”

”Yes, he is the son of my father's cook, and if I ever get the chance I'll cook for him on my knees--cook for him and serve him; he saved my life and nearly lost his own--while you, Shorty, a far better swimmer, would have let me drown like a dog.”

”He's nothing but a North-West halfbreed,” sneered Shorty, hiding his cowardice behind ill words for others.

”So is my mother a North-West halfbreed, and she's the loveliest, the grandest woman in all Canada!” said Hal in a voice that rang clear, sharp, strong as a man's.

There was a dead silence. ”Do you hear me, you fellows?” tormented Hal's even voice again, ”you who have of your own free will placed me, a quarter blood, as the leading boy in this school, my mother is a halfbreed, if you wish to use that refined term, and my mother is proud of it. Her mother, my grandmother, wore a blanket and leggings and smoked a red stone pipe upon the Red River years ago, and I tell you my mother is proud of it, and so am I. I have never told you fellows this before--what was the use? I felt you would never understand, but you hear me now! Do you quite grasp what I am telling you--that _my mother is a halfbreed_?”

Shorty's hand went blindly to his head; he looked dazed, breathless.

”Lady Bennington a halfbreed!” was all he said.

”Yes, Lady Bennington,” said Hal. ”And now will you let s.h.a.g read that address?” But s.h.a.g was at his elbow.

”Hal, Hal, oh, why did you tell them?” he cried.

Hal whirled about like one shot. ”_Tell them_--what do you mean by tell _them_? Did you know this all along?”

”Yes,” said s.h.a.g regretfully. ”I always knew that Lady Bennington was half Indian, but I thought that you didn't, and I promised father that I should never tell when I came down East.” But softly as he spoke, the boys near by heard him. ”Do you mean to say,” Locke, gripping s.h.a.g's shoulders in vice-like fingers, ”that all this time we have been ragging you and running on you, that you knew Hal's mother was a half Indian and you never said a word?”

”Why should I?” asked s.h.a.g, raising his eyebrows.

”Boys,” said Locke, facing the room like a man, ”we've been--well, just cads. And right here I propose that s.h.a.g Larocque read the address to His Excellency to-day.”

”And I second the motion,” said Shorty--”second it heartily”; then he walked over to s.h.a.g.

”I'm not going to ask you to shake hands with me, Larocque,” he said; ”I've been too much of a cad for that. You must despise me too much to forgive me, despise me for my cowardice in not going with you to help Hal when he was drowning, despise me for my mean prejudices, despise me for--oh, pshaw! I ain't fit to even ask you to forgive me. I ain't fit to even offer you my hand.”

”Hold on! hold on!” smiled s.h.a.g. ”There is nothing to despise in a chap who is big enough to offer an apology. Here's my hand, Shorty. Will you take it at last?”

And Shorty took it.

A few hours later, just before s.h.a.g stepped out on the platform to read the address to His Excellency, he paid a flying visit to Hal, who, feeling much better, in fact quite on the mend, was sitting up in bed devouring toast and broth.

”Luck to you, old s.h.a.g,” he said between mouthfuls.

”Oh, Hal, you've been all the world to me,” was all he could reply.

”And you'll be all the world to my dad and mother when they hear what you have done, fis.h.i.+ng me out of the drink and saving my life.” But Shorty shouting up the hall interrupted them.

”Come on, s.h.a.g,” he called; then, as he appeared in the doorway, he said bravely, ”I haven't been so happy for years; I've been a sneak and now that I say it I feel better. s.h.a.g, there isn't a boy living who I consider better fitted to represent this school than you. Do you believe me?”

”I do believe you, and I thank you, Shorty, old chap,” said s.h.a.g happily, and linking arms they left Hal's room together, for cheers outside were announcing the approach of Lord Mortimer--and the feud was ended forever.

The King's Coin