Short Stories
It was a simple affair. He had quarrelled with Timothy
Brown at McDougall. With Timothy Brown he had left McDou-
gall. Without Timothy Brown he had arrived at Sunrise. Consid-
ered in the light of his evilness, the unanimous conclusion was
that he had killed Timothy Brown. On the other hand, Leclere
acknowledged their facts, but challenged their conclusion, and
gave his own explanation. Twenty miles out of Sunrise he and
Timothy Brown were poling the boat along the rocky shore.
From that shore two rifle- shots rang out. Timothy Brown
pitched out of the boat and went down bubbling red, and that
was the last of Timothy Brown. He, Leclere, pitched into the
bottom of the boat with a stinging shoulder. He lay very quiet,
peeping at the shore. After a time two Indians stuck up their
heads and came out to the water's edge, carrying between them
a birch-bark canoe. As they launched it, Leclere let fly. He potted
one, who went over the side after the manner of Timothy Brown.
The other dropped into the bottom of the canoe, and then canoe
and poling boat went down the stream in a drifting battle. After
that they hung up on a split current, and the canoe passed on
one side of an island, the poling boat on the other. That was the
last of the canoe, and he came on into Sunrise. Yes, from the way
the Indian in the canoe jumped, he was sure he had potted him.
That was all. This explanation was not deemed adequate. They
gave him ten hours' grace while the Lizzie steamed down to in-
vestigate. Ten hours later she came wheezing back to Sunrise.
There had been nothing to investigate. No evidence had been
found to back up his statements. They told him to make his will,
for he possessed a fifty-thousand dollar Sunrise claim, and they
were a law-abiding as well as a law-giving breed.
Leclere shrugged his shoulders. "Bot one t'ing," he said; "a
leetle, w'at you call, favour—a leetle favour, dat is eet. I gif my
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