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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

The shot
had missed; they heard the runaway splash into the river and go
stumbling across it and then there was silence. Young Dave
laughed:
"Uncle Judd'll be over hyeh to-morrow to see about this." Hale
said nothing and they went on. At the door of the calaboose Dave
balked and had to be pushed in by main force. They left him
weeping and cursing with rage.
"Go to bed, Bob," said Hale.
"Yes, sir," said Bob; "just as soon as I get my lessons."
Hale did not go to the boarding-house that night--he feared to
face June. Instead he went to the hotel to scraps of a late supper
and then to bed. He had hardly touched the pillow, it seemed, when
somebody shook him by the shoulder. It was Macfarlan, and daylight
was streaming through the window.
"A gang of those Falins are here," Macfarlan said, "and they're
after young Dave Tolliver--about a dozen of 'em. Young Buck is
with them, and the sheriff. They say he shot a man over the
mountains yesterday."
Hale sprang for his clothes--here was a quandary.
"If we turn him over to them--they'll kill him." Macfarlan nodded.
"Of course, and if we leave him in that weak old calaboose,
they'll get more help and take him out to-night.


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