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So Billy watched her passing like a ray of soft light across the valley and around the golden curve of the road. Then with his arms on the bridge-rail, his eyes gazing deep into the amber depths of the water, he lived anew every moment of her nearness, until the hoarse, joyful cry of a crow broke in on his reverie. Croaker, having grown lonely, had come down to meet him.,

"Course they did," Harry agreed. "Ut's no fool you take me fer, shurely?",

Out in the shed he found Moll, anxious over one of her pups which seemed stupid and sick. Billy picked up the pup and cuddled it. He found himself crying over its sniffling whimpers of pain. Love is a grand thing if only because of the softening influence it exerts in the savage breast of man. Billy could not remember ever having actually cried over a sick puppy before. It was as though she stood there, white hands clasped, blue eyes filled with commiseration, the gold of her hair forming a halo above her bent head. He could almost hear her voice saying: "Great, tender heart, cease thy tears. Am I not close beside thee to help thee bear thy sorrow?" That's what Avilee Rochaw had said to Trigger Finger, in the book.,

"And how much more?" cried the Admiral, with a flush in his cheek, and with that expression of triumph and pride which lighted up the eyes of men in those days when they pronounced the magic name of Nelson. "I[Pg 9] should like, I should much like to meet him, to see him, to grasp his hand, for a minute only before my windlass is manned for the next world."

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Just here the whistle of bob-white sounded from a little distance along the trail.,

Scroggie nodded. "Drowned through an air-hole in the lake. Say, Billy, do you skate?",

It was a lonely trail but Hinter had ridden it often. He knew that in the shadows lurked wild things which resented his intrusion of their retreat; that later, when the night grew old, timber-wolves would voice their protest, and fierce-eyed lynx, tufted ears flat and fangs bared in hatred, would look down upon him from overhanging branch of tree. But behind him stalked protection in the form of two great dogs against which no wolf or cat had ever waged successful warfare. Besides, there was the heavy "40-40" revolver in his belt.,

It was a sure hand that raised the old gun, a sure eye that glanced along its brown barrels. At the first loud report of the black powder the leader of the flock crumpled up and the second in command drifted sidewise from the flock. The left barrel spoke and a third duck twisted from the remainder of the flock, to fall with a splash into the water.