United States or Dominican Republic ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The feeble light fell on the round, vacant face of her son his inevitable pasteboard box, grimy with much handling, clutched close to his big breast, and in it the soft beating and thudding of imprisoned wings. Mrs. Brenner's voice was scarcely more than a whisper, "Tobey!" but it rose shrilly as she cried, "Where you been? What was that scream?"
Mart Brenner's wife laid down the ladle with which she had been stirring the contents of a pot that was simmering on the big, black stove, and dragging her crippled foot behind her, she hobbled heavily to the door. As she opened it a new horde of fog-wraiths blew in. The world was a gray, wet blanket.
Dripping! Olga! Blood!" "But the road to the beach begins there too," Mrs. Brenner cried, above the cracked voice, "and Tobey saw his pa before he came home. He said he did. I tell you, Mart was on the hill. He put on Tobey's shoes. Before God I'm telling you the truth." Dick Roamer spoke hesitatingly, "Mebbe the old woman's right, Munn. Mebbe those tracks are Brenner's." Mrs.
No jedge would sentence him like a regular criminal. The most that'll happen will be to put him some safe place where he can't do himself nor no one else any more harm." But still Mrs. Brenner's set expression did not change. After a moment she shook off his aiding arm and moved slowly to Tobey's door.
"Come in," she told them. They came in, pulling off their caps, and stood huddled in a group in the centre of the room. Her husband reluctantly stood up. "Evening!" he said, with his unusual smile. "Bad out, ain't it?" "Yep!" Munn replied. "Heavy fog. We're soaked." Olga Brenner's pitiful instinct of hospitality rose in her breast. "I got some hot soup on the stove.
But her eyes kept returning to the clock and thence to the darkening square of window where the fog pressed heavily into the very room. Out of the gray silence came a shattering sound that sent the ladle crashing out of Mrs. Brenner's nerveless hand and brought a moan from the dozing old woman!
So, with only a small trunk, hastily packed, of her belongings, and an iron-bound chest of the trader's, the two had started before dawn in Uncle Bill's stout buckboard, behind his famous four mule team, with Pete to drive, and two sturdy ranchmen as outriders, hoping to reach the Medicine Bow by late afternoon, and rest at Brenner's Ranch. Confidentially, Mrs. Hay told Mrs.
There was something touching in her frightened old face. "A man a stranger was killed upon the hill," Munn told her. "What's that got to do with us?" she countered. "Not a thing, Mrs. Brenner, probably, but I've just to make sure where every man in the village was this afternoon." Mrs. Brenner's lids flickered.
In a stretch of the road where there was no traffic and few houses in sight, he half turned in his seat and told Ruth in brisk, illuminating sentences what she was to do. It sounded easy, providing she aroused no suspicion in the breasts of those whom she met. The supposed character of Captain von Brenner's sister would enable her to treat everybody in a distant and haughty manner.
The feeble light fell on the round, vacant face of her son, his inevitable pasteboard box, grim with much handling, clutched close to his big breast, and in it the soft beating and thudding of imprisoned wings. Mrs. Brenner's voice was scarcely more than a whisper, "Tobey!" but it rose shrilly as she cried, "Where you been? What was that scream?"
Word Of The Day