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Fox, John, 1863-1919

"The Trail of the Lonesome Pine"


"You set right down now, baby," he said, and he made a pretence of
having something to do inside the mill, while June watched the
creaking old wheel dropping the sun-shot sparkling water into the
swift sluice, but hardly seeing it at all. By and by Uncle Billy
came outside and sat down and neither spoke a word. Once June saw
him covertly looking at his watch and she put both hands to her
throat--stifled.
"What time is it, Uncle Billy?" She tried to ask the question
calmly, but she had to try twice before she could speak at all and
when she did get the question out, her voice was only a broken
whisper.
"Five minutes to twelve, baby," said the old man, and his voice
had a gulp in it that broke June down. She sprang to her feet
wringing her hands:
"I can't stand it, Uncle Billy," she cried madly, and with a sob
that almost broke the old man's heart. "I tell you I can't stand
it."
* * * * * * *
And yet for three hours more she had to stand it, while the
cavalcade of Tollivers, with Rufe's body, made its slow way to the
Kentucky line where Judd and Dave and Bub left them to go home for
the night and be on hand for the funeral next day.


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