"Nay, I was awake and heard." Her heart was beating as though it
would choke her, but she went on steadily, "And the night before I
was awake and heard, and yet again the night before."
And thereat, out of her great happiness and out of the fear that it
might be taken from her, she launched into an original and glowing
address upon the status and rights of woman--the first new-woman
lecture delivered north of Fifty-three.
But it fell on unheeding ears. Snettishane was still in the dark
ages. As she paused for breath, he said threateningly, "To-night I
shall call again like the raven."
At this moment the Factor entered the room and again helped
Snettishane on his way to the heavenly antipodes.
That night the raven croaked more persistently than ever. Lit-lit,
who was a light sleeper, heard and smiled. John Fox tossed
restlessly. Then he awoke and tossed about with greater
restlessness. He grumbled and snorted, swore under his breath and
over his breath, and finally flung out of bed. He groped his way
to the great living-room, and from the rack took down a loaded
shot-gun--loaded with bird-shot, left therein by the careless
McTavish.
The Factor crept carefully out of the Fort and down to the river.
The croaking had ceased, but he stretched out in the long grass and
waited.
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