Dexterity has its dangers, and one of its
dangers is artificiality. It is very difficult to be skilful and to ring
true. If I have not wholly succeeded in A Romany of the Snows, I think I
have not wholly failed, as the continued appeal of a few of the stories
would seem to show.
ACROSS THE JUMPING SANDHILLS
"Here now, Trader; aisy, aisy! Quicksands I've seen along the sayshore,
and up to me half-ways I've been in wan, wid a double-and-twist in the
rope to pull me out; but a suckin' sand in the open plain--aw, Trader,
aw! the like o' that niver a bit saw I."
So said Macavoy the giant, when the thing was talked of in his presence.
"Well, I tell you it's true, and they're not three miles from Fort
O'Glory. The Company's--[Hudson's Bay Company]--men don't talk about it
--what's the use! Travellers are few that way, and you can't get the
Indians within miles of them. Pretty Pierre knows all about them--better
than anyone else almost. He'll stand by me in it--eh, Pierre?"
Pierre, the half-breed gambler and adventurer, took no notice, and was
silent for a time, intent on his cigarette; and in the pause Mowley the
trapper said: "Pierre's gone back on you, Trader. P'r'aps ye haven't
paid him for the last lie. I go one better, you stand by me--my treat
--that's the game!"
"Aw, the like o' that," added Macavoy reproachfully. "Aw, yer tongue to
the roof o' yer mouth, Mowley. Liars all men may be, but that's wid
wimmin or landlords.
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