Part 12 (2/2)
They exchanged glares again. The whole sense of her power over these giants came home to her as she watched them fighting their duel of the eyes.
”You suggested it,” she said to McTee.
He stepped forward with an expression as grim as that of a prize fighter facing an antagonist of unknown prowess. Once and again his hand hovered above the sticks before he drew.
”You've chosen the walk to the hill,” she said, and showed the shorter stick. ”Do you mind?”
”No,” mocked Harrigan, ”he always walks after meals.”
Their eyes dwelt almost fondly upon each other. They were both men after the other's heart. Then the Scotchman turned and strode away.
Kate watched Harrigan suspiciously, but his eyes, following McTee, were gentle and dreamy.
”Ah,” he murmured, ”there's a jewel of a man.”
”Do you like him so much?”
”Do I like him? Me dear, I love the man; I'll break his head with more joy than a shtarvin' man cracks a nut!”
He recovered himself instantly.
”I didn't mean that--I--”
”Dan, you and McTee have planned to fight!”
He growled: ”If a man told me that, I'd say he was a liar.”
”Yes; but you won't lie to a girl, Harrigan.”
She rose and faced him, reaching up to lay her hands on his thick shoulders.
”Will you give me your promise as an honest man to try to avoid a fight with him?”
For she saw death in it if they met alone; certainly death for one, and perhaps for both.
”Kate, would you ask a tree to promise to avoid the lightning?”
She caught a little breath through set teeth in her angry impatience, then: ”Dan, you're like a naughty boy. Can't you be reasonable?”
Despite her wrath, she noticed a quick change in his face. The blue of his eyes was no longer cold and incurious, but lighted, warm, and marvelously deep.
And she said rapidly, making her voice cold to quell the uneasy, rising fire behind his eyes: ”If you have made McTee angry, aren't you man enough to smooth things over--to ask his pardon?”
He answered vaguely: ”Beg his pardon?”
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