Selected Stories of Bret Harte by Bret Harte
page 84 of 413 (20%)
page 84 of 413 (20%)
|
The gambler laughed, and seated himself on the bed--the paper still in
his hand. "It's a good sign, ain't it?" queried Brown. "I reckon. Say, old man, hadn't you better get up?" The "old man," thus affectionately appealed to, rose, with the assistance of Hamlin's outstretched hand. "Smoke?" Brown mechanically took the proffered cigar. "Light?" Jack had twisted the letter into a spiral, lit it, and held it for his companion. He continued to hold it until it was consumed, and dropped the fragment--a fiery star--from the open window. He watched it as it fell, and then returned to his friend. "Old man," he said, placing his hands upon Brown's shoulders, "in ten minutes I'll be on the road, and gone like that spark. We won't see each other agin; but, before I go, take a fool's advice: sell out all you've got, take your wife with you, and quit the country. It ain't no place for you, nor her. Tell her she must go; make her go, if she won't. Don't whine because you can't be a saint, and she ain't an angel. Be a man--and treat her like a woman. Don't be a damn fool. Good-by." He tore himself from Brown's grasp, and leaped down the stairs like |
|