Mercy! shrieked little Francette, her red-rose face aghast, "he
will begin before I can bring the help!" Like a flash of flame the
maid in her crimson skirt shot up the main way of Fort de Seviere
to where the factory lay asleep in the warm spring sun. On its log
step, pipe in mouth, young Anders McElroy leaned against the jamb
and looked smilingly out upon his settlement. Peace lay softly upon
it, from the waters of the small stream to the east where nine
canoes lay bottom up upon the pebbly shore, to the great dark wall
of the forest shouldering near on three sides. To him ran little
Francette, light on her moccasined feet as the wind in the tender
pine-tops, her eloquent small hands outstretched and clutching at
his sleeve audaciously.
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