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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

I reckon he would come if he thought he oughter--
but I'm on this side of the state-line. If I was on his side,
mebbe I'd stop."
Young Dave stared, for things were surely coming to a pretty pass
in Lonesome Cove.
"An' I reckon," the old man went on, "hit 'ud be better grace in
you to stop sayin' things agin' him; fer if it hadn't been fer
him, you'd be laid out by them Falins by this time."
It was true, and Dave, silenced, was forced into another channel.
"I wonder," he said presently, "how them Falins always know when I
go over thar."
"I've been studyin' about that myself," said Devil Judd. Inside,
the old step-mother had heard Dave's query.
"I seed the Red Fox this afternoon," she quavered at the door.
"Whut was he doin' over hyeh?" asked Dave.
"Nothin'," she said, "jus' a-sneakin' aroun' the way he's al'ays
a-doin'. Seemed like he was mighty pertickuler to find out when
you was comin' back."
Both men started slightly.
"We're all Tollivers now all right," said the Hon. Samuel Budd
that night while he sat with Hale on the porch overlooking the
mill-pond--and then he groaned a little.


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