The Story of Louis Riel: the Rebel Chief by J. E. (Joseph Edmund) Collins
page 122 of 250 (48%)
page 122 of 250 (48%)
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inclinations.
"Surround the lick-shpittles, Mounsieurs," shouted the big, red Irishman. "Veeve lah, Veeve lah!" he screamed, and beat the flanks of his horse with his monster feet. The big ruffian was fairly delirious for a fight. "Thim are the min. Mounsieurs," he shouted, "that robbed my counthrey of her liberty. Him thim in, Mounsieurs." In this way he continued to shout, his voice sounding over the snowy waste like the bellowing of a bull. As he neared the portage detachment, he perceived Major Boulton, whom he knew. "Oha," he bellowed, "Mr. Chief Sassenach. Veeve lah Republeekh, God save Oirland! Surrender me brave lick-shpittle. What's this? Tare en nouns, if it isn't Tom Shkott. Divil resaive me you'll not get off this time. Lay down your arms, traitors and crown worshippers. Lay thim down. Drop thim in the shnow. There, don't be too nice. Down wid thim. Or will ye foight? But it's meself that would loike a bit of a shindy wid ye." Thereupon he took his rifle, loaded it, and pointed it at the head of Major Boulton. "Major," he shouted, "your eye is covered. Divil resaive me if I couldn't knock it out quicker nor you could wink." Then he lowered his piece, waved his greasy hat around his big sorrel head and yelled, "Veeve lah! Capture thim all, even to that cratur," |
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