Snow-Bound at Eagle's by Bret Harte
page 32 of 128 (25%)
page 32 of 128 (25%)
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Had they become suddenly insane, or were they bewitched by this morose intruder and his insufferably familiar confidant? The man was wounded, it was true; they might have to put him up in common humanity; but here was her austere mother, who wouldn't come in the room when Whisky Dick called on business, actually pressing both of the invalid's hands, while her sister, who never extended a finger to the ordinary visiting humanity of the neighborhood, looked on with evident complacency. The wounded man suddenly raised Mrs. Scott's hand to his lips, kissed it gently, and, with his smile quite vanished, endeavored to rise to his feet. "It's of no use--we must go. Give me your arm, Ned. Quick! Are the horses there?" "Dear me," said Mrs. Scott quickly. "I forgot to say the horse cannot be found anywhere. Manuel must have taken him this morning to look up the stock. But he will be back to-night certainly, and if to-morrow--" The wounded man sank back to a sitting position. "Is Manuel your man?" he asked grimly. "Yes." The two men exchanged glances. "Marked on his left cheek and drinks a good deal?" "Yes," said Kate, finding her voice. "Why?" The amused look came back to the man's eyes. "That kind of man isn't |
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