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Snow-Bound at Eagle's | Bret Harte | |
Chapter VII |
Page 3 of 9 |
Nevertheless, it was some minutes before the rifle cracked again. The wheeling bird suddenly struck the wind with its wings aslant, and then fell like a plummet at a distance which showed the difficulty of the feat. Falkner started from her side before the bird reached the ground. He returned to her after a lapse of a few moments, bearing a trailing wing in his hand. "You shall make your choice," he said gayly. "Are you sure it was killed outright?" "Head shot off," said Falkner briefly. "And besides, the fall would have killed it," said Kate conclusively. "It's lovely. I suppose they call you a very good shot?" "They--who?" "Oh! the people you know--your friends, and their sisters." "George shoots better than I do, and has had more experience. I've seen him do that with a pistol. Of course not such a long shot, but a more difficult one." Kate did not reply, but her face showed a conviction that as an artistic and gentlemanly performance it was probably inferior to the one she had witnessed. Falkner, who had picked up the hare also, again took his place by her side, as they turned towards the house. "Do you remember the day you came, when we were walking here, you pointed out that rock on the mountain where the poor animals had taken refuge from the snow?" said Kate suddenly. "Yes," answered Falkner; "they seem to have diminished. I am afraid you were right; they have either eaten each other or escaped. Let us hope the latter." |
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Snow-Bound at Eagle's Bret Harte |
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