The Maid of the Whispering Hills by Vingie E. (Vingie Eve) Roe
page 33 of 294 (11%)
page 33 of 294 (11%)
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meet with white faces! For weeks I have beheld along the shores peering
brown countenances that lifted my gorge, and I have well-nigh been tempted to turn back." "It has been a long journey, then, to you?" McElroy smiled, thinking of the first impressions and effect of the wilderness on such a man fresh from the ways of civilisation. "Long? Though it is my initial journey, yet am I veteran frontiersman." He turned upon the factor the brilliance of his smile, a combination of dazzling teeth and eyes that fairly danced with spirit, like bubbling wine, blue and swift in their changes from laughter to an exaggerated dolorousness, as when he spoke of these terrible hardships. And if they were quick after this fashion they were no less so in roaming keenly over every corner of the enclosed space within the stockade. Before they had reached the factory the stranger knew that there were three rows of cabins in the post, that the factory was a mighty fortress in its low solidity, and that the small log structure to the right of it with the barred window was the pot au beurre. As they neared the factory the figure of a tall woman, young by the straightness of the back, the gracious yet taut beauty of line and curve, came from behind the cabin of the Savilles, and on her shoulder was perched a three-year-old child which laughed and gurgled with delight, holding tight to her widespread hands. The woman's face was |
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