He never finished the sentence, for Hardrock was off the ground like a spring of steel, a billet of firewood in one hand, and the sound of the blow could be heard across the clearing. Struck behind the ear Hughie Dunlevy threw out his arms and went down in a heap. Hardrock looked at Nelly Callahan, and the glitter of his eyes changed to a smile.
“So that’s that,” he said coolly. “Too bad I had to use the stick, Miss Nelly, but you spoke the truth when you said I was done up. Don’t worry about him—he’ll come around after a bit. Do you suppose you could find me a bit of dry tobacco? Then we’ll sit down and talk things over.”
For a moment the girl looked at him. She was blue of eye and black of hair, and the color was high in her cheeks; and when she smiled there came a dimple on either side of her mouth, and her body held a spring of the foot and a supple grace of round lines that the school-teaching had not taken out of her. Suddenly a laugh broke in her eyes.
“Hughie had it coming, I think,” said she, and turned. “I’ll get you the tobacco.”
She got him some, and sat down at the fire and watched him stuff it into his pipe and light it with an ember. Hughie Dunlevy lay where he had fallen.
“Father and the other boys will be back in an hour or sooner,” she said. “I think you’d better go and get that canoe of yours, and be off while you have the chance.”
Hardrock gave her a swift look, then chuckled.
“Oh! Saw me land, did you? No, I’m not going, thanks. I’m staying.”
“Then you’ll have trouble, I’m afraid.”
He shrugged, and lay back on one elbow, smoking contentedly.