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Snow-Bound at Eagle's | Bret Harte | |
Chapter IV |
Page 4 of 9 |
"I should not be alive to see it, George," said Falkner gloomily. "You'd manage to pitchfork me and those two women on Hale's horse and ride away; that's what you'd do, or I don't know you! Look here, Ned," he added more seriously, "the only swindling was our bringing that note here. That was YOUR idea. You thought it would remove suspicion, and as you believed I was bleeding to death you played that game for all it was worth to save me. You might have done what I asked you to do--propped me up in the bushes, and got away yourself. I was good for a couple of shots yet, and after that--what mattered? That night, the next day, the next time I take the road, or a year hence? It will come when it will come, all the same!" He did not speak bitterly, nor relax his smile. Falkner, without speaking, slid his hand along the coverlet. Lee grasped it, and their hands remained clasped together for a few minutes in silence. "How is this to end? We cannot go on here in this way," said Falkner suddenly. |
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Snow-Bound at Eagle's Bret Harte |
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