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Christy thought Pink Mulgrum might as well tell him about the orders and he could at least save his breath if he had no other motive for leaving the second lieutenant in the dark for the present. He went to the deck, and then down into the cabin.
Morgana, bending over from the vessel, watched every action, she showed neither alarm nor impatience nor anxiety and when Gaspard said suddenly "It is easier than I thought it would be!" she merely smiled as if she knew. Another few moments and the drowned woman's body was hauled into the cabin of the ship, where Morgana knelt down beside it.
Mechanically she scanned the headlines of the paper when her eye caught the line: "Imprisoned Miners in Snow-slide; Relief Party Working Night and Day." "Saguache, Colo. Word reached here last night that John Buchan and James Winslow, miners working a claim on the Sangre de Christo range, were buried in their cabin beneath a snow slide.
I made the acquaintance of the Peggotty family and was made free of the cabin many years ago, in the dark winter time when the Northfleet went down off Dungeness, and over three hundred passengers were lost. All the coast was then alive with expectancy of some moment finding the sea crowded with the bodies of the drowned.
I rallied and was on my guard in an instant. He came at me again, and we had it up and down and around the cabin for some little time before I could get a crack at him with my head. When the old head did get a chance, it was not long until he cried quit. The Captain and every one who saw the fellow hit me from behind said they were glad to see him get licked, and so was I.
The rustlers smoked, slept, and moved about; the day waned, and the shadow of the cliff crept over the cabin. To Hare the time had been as a moment; he was amazed to find the sun had gone down behind Coconina. If August Naab had left the oasis at dawn he must now be near the divide, unless he had been delayed by a wind-storm at the strip of sand.
On he went in the direction of the light, going as noiselessly as a panther creeping upon its prey, until presently he dimly discovered the outline of a small cabin, built back against the precipitous side of an overhanging hill. Hearing voices, and recognizing that they were white men, he stepped boldly forward and knocked at the door.
He stayed under cover in the woods, in such lurking places as the nature of the country provided, in the day time, and at night would cautiously approach his wife's cabin, when, at an appointed signal, she would let him in and give him such food and care as his condition required.
Well, you'll agree with me now that there's practically nothing to tell her. There is, of course, little Miss Richards, the waitress in the smoking-room of the Piccadilly Cabin. Her, I mean, with the fuzzy golden hair done low. You've often exchanged "Good evening" with her, I'm sure. Her hair's done low: she used to make rather a point of telling me that.
How providential it was that he should have, in his restlessness, dropped his hand over the bedside! for scarcely had they ascended a swell of ground beyond the field when the cabin went down with a crash, and the fragments, whirling about and jarring together, disappeared from view.
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