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The Harvester by Gene Stratton-Porter
page 10 of 646 (01%)
protecting me now, like sin, ain't you? Bring a girl
here to spoil both our lives! Not if I know myself!
Protect!''

The man arose and going inside the cabin closed the
door. After that the dog lay in abject misery so deep
that two big tears squeezed from his eyes and rolled down
his face. To be shut out was worse than the blow. He
did not take the trouble to arise from the wet leaves
covering the cold earth, but closing his eyes went to sleep.

The man leaned against the door and ran his fingers
through his hair as he anathematized the dog. Slowly his
eyes travelled around the room. He saw his tumbled bed
by the open window facing the lake, the small table with
his writing material, the crude rack on the wall loaded
with medical works, botanies, drug encyclopaedias, the
books of the few authors who interested him, and the bare,
muck-tracked floor. He went to the kitchen, where he
built a fire in the cook stove, and to the smoke-house, from
which he returned with a slice of ham and some eggs. He
set some potatoes boiling and took bread, butter and milk
from the pantry. Then he laid a small note-book on the
table before him and studied the transactions of the
day.

10 lbs. wild cherry bark 6 cents $ .60
5 `` wahoo root bark 25 `` 1.25
20 `` witch hazel bark 5 `` 1.00
5 `` blue flag root 12 `` .60
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