"
"What have you got to say about it?"
At that moment Lydia appeared at the door leading from the kitchen.
"Whatever she has to say," answered Pierre.
"Who're you talking for?"
"For her, for Throng, for the law."
"The law--by gosh, that's good! You, you darned gambler; you scum!"
said Caleb, the brother who knew him.
Pierre showed all the intelligent, resolute coolness of a trained officer
of the law. He heard a little cry behind him, and stepping sideways, and
yet not turning his back on the men, he saw Lydia.
"Pierre! Pierre!" she said in a half-frightened way, yet with a sort of
pleasure lighting up her face; and she stepped forward to him. One of
the brothers was about to pull her away, but Pierre whipped out his
commission. "Wait," he said. "That's enough. I'm for the law;
I belong to the mounted police. I have come for the girl you stole."
The elder brother snatched the paper and read. Then he laughed loud and
long. "So you've come to fetch her away," he said, "and this is how you
do it!"--he shook the paper. "Well, by--" Suddenly he stopped. "Come,"
he said, "have a drink, and don't be a dam' fool. She's our sister,--old
Throng stole her, and she's goin' to marry our partner. Here, Caleb,
fish out the brandy-wine," he added to his younger brother, who went to a
cupboard and brought the bottle.
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