"Had me fill av it, Trader, me angel? I'm only gittin' the taste av it. An' ye'll plaze bring on yer men—four it was—for the feed av Irish pemmican."
The Trader turned and swore at Pierre, who smiled enigmatically.
Soon after, two of the best fighters of the Company's men stood forth.
Macavoy shook his head. "Four, I said, an' four I'll have, or I'll ate
the heads aff these."
Shamed, the Trader sent forth two more. All on an instant the four made a rush on the giant; and there was a stiff minute after, in which it was not clear that he was happy. Blows rattled on him, and one or two he got on the head, just as he tossed a man spinning senseless across the grass, which sent him staggering backwards for a moment, sick and stunned.
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.