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The Story of Louis Riel: the Rebel Chief by J. E. (Joseph Edmund) Collins
page 122 of 250 (48%)
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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