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"Hush!" he said, addressing no one in particular. "Calamity's goin' to claim another victim!" He raised one hand to his lips, making a funnel of it. He was about to shout at the driver, but thought better of the idea and let the hand drop. "Shucks," he said, "I reckon there ain't any real danger. But I expect the boss gasser of the outfit will be gettin' his'n pretty quick now."
To-day, if you visit that grave on the crest of the saddle back, you will find it flanked by two others, a man's on one side with the figure of a trader carved in sandstone by the Indians; on the other, old Calamity's with a plain granite slab; though I have heard strict people say her body ought not to have been laid there because of the vagrant character of her early life.
And then tucked ingeniously into this account was veiled mention of a rich sheepman, too well known to need naming, who was evidently making reparation for the errors of his youth by according to the mother as good treatment as the daughter under the same roof. Not a name was mentioned except Calamity's. I trust it is obvious to you that it was not libelous, because it was without malice.
"Your boss is in big luck," continued the visitor, pleasantly ignoring Calamity's manner. "The worst horse and the worst jock in the world a prize package for fair! Last Chance! His name ought to be No Chance!" "Now looka here," whined Calamity, "I never tried to queer anything for you, did I? Live and let live; that's what I say, and let a guy get by if he can.
Williams said, "he is murdered just as truly as if Moyese had cut his throat with his own hand." It was not for months after, that Eleanor recalled the look on Calamity's face as the Indian woman heard those frenzied words. Then Mrs. Williams broke in uncontrollable sobbing. "Leave me! Go out all of you. Leave me alone!" Eleanor shut the door and led the dazed Indian children from the outer hall.
In reality it was but a second before she heard Arthur's voice again: "For Heaven's sake!" he muttered, calamity's approach intensifying his abjurgations. "There's the old man!" Apprehensively, abasedly, but with legs still stolidly apart, Missy looked up. Yes, there was Mr. Picker, elbowing his way through the crowd. Then an icy trickle chilled her spine; following Mr.
Then, we remember that we did hear It, though we did not heed it. It was so with Eleanor after her father passed from the Ranch House that night. Afterwards, she knew that she had noticed the wistful look on his face; but the memory of it did not come to the surface of thought till she heard the click of Calamity's door in the basement and recollected his words; "Keep Calamity by you."
Going to the French window of her bedroom, Eleanor called down to old Calamity's room below. To her surprise, the half-breed woman on the instant poked her head above the balcony railing of the basement quarters. "Going to the Ridge to-morrow, Calamity?" "Oui, Mademoiselle, surement," pattered Calamity softly in that Cree patois which is neither French nor Indian. "Then, take this up to Mr.
Then, the child's babble, the looks of the two at the Cabin, her father's wistful face, the quick departure of Matthews and himself, followed almost immediately by Moyese's motor, confirmed Calamity's incoherent account. Eleanor ran out to the telephone in the living room, and rang for the Ranger's Cabin.
A guessed that much when y'r Indian woman sent me the wrong road from the Ridge trail, that night! She doesn't even know who that Indian woman is." "You came for her?" repeated Wayland slowly. The night on the Ridge came back to him! Calamity's fear when the old frontiersman arrived; Bat's threat to expose something; Eleanor's perturbed letter; the father's half furtive defiant existence.
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