15/21 Don't know why they hired you at the mine. Your job's smuggling the Indians liquor." "Your folks!" sneered Driscoll. "You're not white." "Stop there!" said Drummond, with stern quietness, and Thirlwell saw him balance a cutter he held. It was a short but heavy piece of steel, curved at the point. "Your father was a squaw-man; your mother--" He bent his body with the swift suppleness of an acrobat, and the cutter, flying past, rang upon the wall of the shack. |