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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"

I'm much obliged--let's
shake hands!"
The boy turned sullenly away with a dogged shake of his head.
"I was beholden to you," he said with dignity, "an' I warned you
'bout them Falins to git even with you. We're quits now."
Hale started to speak--to say that the lad was not beholden to
him--that he would as quickly have protected a Falin, but it would
have only made matters worse. Moreover, he knew precisely what
Dave had against him, and that, too, was no matter for discussion.
So he said simply and sincerely:
"I'm sorry we can't be friends."
"No," Dave gritted out, "not this side o' Heaven--or Hell."


XIX

And still farther into that far silence about which she used to
dream at the base of the big Pine, went little June. At dusk,
weary and travel-stained, she sat in the parlours of a hotel--a
great gray columned structure of stone. She was confused and
bewildered and her head ached. The journey had been long and
tiresome. The swift motion of the train had made her dizzy and
faint. The dust and smoke had almost stifled her, and even now the
dismal parlours, rich and wonderful as they were to her
unaccustomed eyes, oppressed her deeply.


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