God's Country—And the Woman by James Oliver Curwood
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page 8 of 270 (02%)
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motionless as the rock that towered over her. Along with the
rippling drone of the stream, without reason on his part--without time for thought-there leaped through his amazed brain the words of Jasper, the factor, and he knew that he was looking upon the miracle that makes "God's Country"--a white woman! The sun shone down upon her bare head. Over her slightly bent shoulders swept a glory of unbound hair that rippled to the sand. Black tresses, even velvety as the crow's wing, might have meant Cree or half-breed. But this at which he stared--all that he saw of her--was the brown and gold of the autumnal tintings that had painted pictures for him that day. Slowly she raised her head, as if something had given her warning of a presence behind, and as she hesitated in that birdlike, listening poise a breath of wind from the little valley stirred her hair in a shimmering veil that caught a hundred fires of the sun. And then, as he crushed back his first impulse to cry out, to speak to her, she rose erect beside the pool, her back still to him, and hidden to the hips in her glorious hair. Her movement revealed a towel partly spread out on the sand, and a comb, a brush, and a small toilet bag. Philip did not see these. She was turning, slowly, scanning the rocks beyond the valley. Like a thing carven out of stone he stood, still speechless, still staring, when she faced him. |
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