Pierre called over to him swiftly: “Remember Malahide!”
This acted on him like a charm. There never was seen such a shattered bundle of men as came out from his hands a few minutes later. As for himself, he had but a rag or two on him, but stood unmindful of his state, and the fever of battle untameable on him. The women drew away.
“Now, me babes o’ the wood,” he shouted, “that sit at the feet av the finest Injin woman in the North,—though she’s no frind o’ mine—and aren’t fit to kiss her moccasin, come an wid you, till I have me fun wid your spines.”
But a shout went up, and the crowd pointed. There were the five half-breeds running away across the plains.
The game was over.
“Here’s some clothes, man; for Heaven’s sake put them on,” said the Trader.
Then the giant became conscious of his condition, and like a timid girl he hurried into the clothing.
The crowd would have carried him on their shoulders, but he would have none of it.
“I’ve only wan frind here,” he said, “an’ it’s Pierre, an’ to his shanty I go an’ no other.”
“Come, mon ami,” said Pierre, “for to-morrow we travel far.”