Part 11 (2/2)

”Oh, go 'way!” said Gabriel, with a severe voice and the most shameless signs of relenting in his face. ”Go away! What do you care? Here I might slave myself to death to dress you in silks and satins, and you'd dip into the first ditch or waltz through the first underbrush that you kem across. You haven't got no _sabe_ in dress, Olly. It ain't ten days ago as I iron-bound and copper-fastened that dress, so to speak, and look at it now! Olly, look at it now!” And he held it up indignantly before the maiden.

Olly placed the top of her head against the breast of her brother as a _point d'appui_, and began to revolve around him as if she wished to bore a way into his inmost feelings.

”Oh, you ain't mad, Gabe!” she said, leaping first over one knee and then over the other without lifting her head. ”You ain't mad!”

Gabriel did not deign to reply, but continued mending the frayed petticoat in dignified silence.

”Who did you see down town?” said Olly, not at all rebuffed.

”No one,” said Gabriel, shortly.

”You did! You smell of linnyments and peppermint,” said Olly, with a positive shake of the head. ”You've been to Briggs's and the new family up the gulch.”

”Yes,” said Gabriel, ”that Mexican's legs is better, but the baby's dead. Jest remind me, to-morrow, to look through mother's things for suthin' for that poor woman.”

”Gabe, do you know what Mrs. Markle says of you?” said Olly, suddenly raising her head.

”No,” replied Gabriel, with an affectation of indifference that, like all his affectations, was a perfect failure.

”She says,” said Olly, ”that you want to be looked after yourself more'n all these people. She says you're just throwing yourself away on other folks. She says I ought to have a woman to look after me.”

Gabriel stopped his work, laid down the petticoat, and taking the curly head of Olly between his knees, with one hand beneath her chin and the other on the top of her head, turned her mischievous face towards his.

”Olly,” he said, seriously, ”when I got you outer the snow at Starvation Camp; when I toted you on my back for miles till we got into the valley; when we lay by thar for two weeks, and me a felling trees and picking up provisions here and thar, in the wood or the river, wharever thar was bird or fish, I reckon you got along as well--I won't say better--ez if you had a woman to look arter you. When at last we kem here to this camp, and I built this yer house, I don't think any woman could hev done better. If they could, I'm wrong, and Mrs. Markle's right.”

Olly began to be uncomfortable. Then the quick instincts of her s.e.x came to her relief, and she archly a.s.sumed the aggressive.

”I think Mrs. Markle likes you, Gabe.”

Gabriel looked down at the little figure in alarm. There are some subjects whereof the youngest of womankind has an instinctive knowledge that makes the wisest of us tremble.

”Go to bed, Olly,” said the cowardly Gabriel.

But Olly wanted to sit up, so she changed the subject.

”The Mexican you're tendin' isn't a Mexican, he's a Chileno; Mrs. Markle says so.”

”Maybe; it's all the same. _I_ call him a Mexican. He talks too straight, anyway,” said Gabriel, indifferently.

”Did he ask you any more questions about--about old times?” continued the girl.

”Yes; he wanted to know everything that happened in Starvation Camp. He was rek'larly took with poor Gracie; asked a heap o' questions about her--how she acted, and seemed to feel as bad as we did about never hearing anything from her. I never met a man, Olly, afore, as seemed to take such an interest in other folks' sorrers as he did. You'd have tho't he'd been one of the party. And he made me tell him all about Dr.

Devarges.”

”And Philip?” queried Olly.

”No,” said Gabriel, somewhat curtly.

<script>