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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

As usual, Dave had left the house when Hale came, and an
hour after Hale was gone she went to the little ravine with a book
in her hand, and there the boy was sitting on her log, his elbows
dug into his legs midway between thigh and knee, his chin in his
hands, his slouched hat over his black eyes--every line of him
picturing angry, sullen dejection. She would have slipped away,
but he heard her and lifted his head and stared at her without
speaking. Then he slowly got off the log and sat down on a moss-
covered stone.
"'Scuse me," he said with elaborate sarcasm. "This bein' yo'
school-house over hyeh, an' me not bein' a scholar, I reckon I'm
in your way."
"How do you happen to know hit's my school-house?" asked June
quietly.
"I've seed you hyeh."
"Jus' as I s'posed."
"You an' HIM."
"Jus' as I s'posed," she repeated, and a spot of red came into
each cheek. "But we didn't see YOU." Young Dave laughed.
"Well, everybody don't always see me when I'm seein' them."
"No," she said unsteadily. "So, you've been sneakin' around
through the woods a-spyin' on me--SNEAKIN' AN' SPYIN'," she
repeated so searingly that Dave looked at the ground suddenly,
picked up a pebble confusedly and shot it in the water.


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