The Shadow Passes by Roy J. Snell

Author:Roy J. Snell
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781634211505
Publisher: Duke Classics

Chapter XII - A Ptarmigan Feast

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As Red McGee opened his eyes he found the foreman, Dan Weston and his daughter, Rusty, bending over him.

"Wh-what!" he exclaimed, struggling to a sitting position, "what in the name of—"

"You fell into a fast one, Red." The foreman laughed. The crowd joined in this laugh but not the girl. Sober of face, she stood looking down at her father.

"Daddy," she began, "are you—"

"Do you mean to say that kid from the Stormy Petrel put me out?" Red McGee interrupted.

"Well, you went out," the foreman drawled. "The boy was the only one near you so I reckon—"

He was not allowed to finish for at that Red McGee let out a tremendous roar of laughter.

"Ho! Ho! Ha-ha-ha!" he roared. "That's one on Red McGee.

"But, boys!" he struggled to his feet. "I want to admit right here. There might be something to that Stormy Petrel crew after all. Give 'em a chance, I say."

"Sure! Sure!" the crowd boomed. "Give 'em a chance."

"Where's that young roughneck?" Red demanded, staring about him. "I want to shake his hand."

"Here—here he is!" Blackie pushed Johnny forward.

"I—I'm sorry—" Johnny began.

"Young man," Red McGee broke in, "never apologize. Your enemies don't deserve it, and your friends don't demand it. From now on we're pals. Shake on it." Their hands met in the clasp of a grizzly and a bear cub.

"What's more," Red went on, "the treat's on me. You're coming up to dinner with me, all four of you fellows from the Stormy Petrel. Ever eat ptarmigan pot pie?"

"Never have," said Johnny.

"Well, you're going to before this day is ..."

[1]

... look into her eyes, he found himself seeing cold, blue-gray circles expressing as near as he could tell, undying hate.

"Of course," he said to Blackie, "you can't expect a girl to understand about boxing, with all of its ups and downs. But it does seem she might give a fellow the benefit of the doubt."

"She will, son. She will," Blackie reassured him. "Perhaps sooner than you think." Was this prophesy or a guess? Time would tell.

Rusty McGee was the type of girl any real boy might be proud to call a pal. With an easy smile, a freckled face and a mass of wavy, rust-colored hair, she caught your interest at a glance. The strong, elastic, healthy spring of her whole self kept you looking.

More than once during his visit to the McGee summer home, a stout log cabin nestling among the barren Alaskan hills, Johnny found his eyes following her movements as she glided from room to room.

"Boy, she can cook!" Blackie exclaimed as he set his teeth into the juicy breast of "mountain quail," as ptarmigan are often called. And Johnny did not disagree.

Since the crew of the Stormy Petrel were her father's friends, it was evident that Rusty meant to do her best as a hostess. But to Johnny she gave never a smile.

"How she must love that old dad of hers!" Blackie whispered once. Johnny's only answer was a scowl.

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