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"Look at my leg," said Mīka´pi; "swollen and sore. See my wounded arm; I can hardly hold the bow. Far away is the home of my people, and my strength is gone. Surely here I must die, for I cannot walk, and I have no food.",

"It is to be regretted you cannot like England, as you have made up your mind to live in it; and yet I think——" She pauses.,

And then old Brian comes in, and Geoffrey opens out to him this newly-devized plan; and after a while the old farmer, with tears in his eyes, and a strange quiver in his voice that cuts through Mona's heart, gives his consent to it, and murmurs a blessing on this hasty marriage that is to deprive him of all he best loves on earth.,

Indeed, it is probably a fear lest she shall deem them unduly elated that causes them to hesitate before running to greet her with their usual demonstrative joy. Then politeness gets the better of pride, and, rising with a mighty effort, they stretch themselves, yawn, and, going up to her, thrust their soft muzzles into her hands and look up at her with their great, liquid, loving eyes. They rub themselves against her skirts, and wag their tails, and give all other signs of loyalty and devotion.

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Later on, when they open the paper that had been given by the dead man into the keeping of Dr. Bland, and which proves to be his will, duly signed and witnessed by the gamekeeper and his son, they find he has left to Mona all of which he died possessed. It amounts to about two thousand a year; of which one thousand is to come to her at once, the other on the death of his mother.,

When the people saw the buffalo coming they led a big band of them to the piskun, but just as the leaders were about to jump over the cliff a raven came and flapped its wings in front of them and croaked, and they turned off and ran down another way. Every time a herd of buffalo was brought near to the piskun this raven frightened them away. Then Napi knew that the raven was the person who had kept the buffalo hidden.,

There is a pause. Mona says nothing, but taking out the flower that has lain upon her bosom all night, pulls it to pieces petal by petal. And this is unlike Mona, because flowers are dear to her as sunshine is to them.,

"Yes,—in a regular hole, you know," says Mr. Rodney. "It is rather a complicated story, but the truth is, my grandfather hated his eldest son—my uncle who went to Australia—like poison, and when dying left all the property—none of which was entailed—to his second son, my father."