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Now, as Sim Gage topped the grade, gravel crunching under his feet, a trifle out of breath with his climb, since the incline itself was a thing of magnificent distances, he saw the searchlight of the power dam begin a performance altogether new in his own experience. The great shaft of light rose up abruptly to a position vertical, a beam of light reaching up into the sky.
I mustn't even try to describe the landing and the boat crunching against the wooden wharf and all the people running to the same side of the deck and Christie Johnson calling out to the crowd to keep to the starboard and nobody being able to find it. Everyone who has been on a Mariposa excursion knows all about that. Nor can I describe the day itself and the picnic under the trees.
But if ever I find out that you have lied to me, that you loved the fellow and married me out of spite...." He completed the sentence by suggestively crunching a nut. The sullen expression on her face gave place to a smile. "I should like to see you in a rage." "No, my heart; you would like nothing of the sort. I understand you better than you know; that accounts for my patience. You are Italian.
Nearer and nearer it came, till it seemed to be about on a level with the front lodge gate; then to their surprise there was a loud crunching of gravel, and they heard it careering at a breakneck speed up the carriage-drive. They looked at one another in the utmost consternation. "A coach, and driven in this mad fashion! Whose was it? What did it mean? Not visitors, surely!"
They ground and clashed together in furious confusion as the river spun them; the greater ones up-ended themselves, casting off muddy cascades. From the depths of the flood came a grinding and crunching as ice met rock. Spellbound, the girls watched that first wave go tearing out of sight, filling the river bank-full.
And the fox glanced up at the noisy bird as if he would have been ready to give two fat geese and a whole litter of rabbits for the pleasure of crunching her impudent neck.
"There's no more to be got where that came from." It was the certainty of this fact that impelled me to offer the hint. "Leave any for him? Who's him?" said my friend, stopping in his crunching of pie-crust. "The young man. That you spoke of. That was hid with you." "Oh ah!" he returned, with something like a gruff laugh. "Him? Yes, yes! He don't want no wittles."
Outside the frozen kitchen window the snow-covered fields and meadows stretched, glistening and silent, away to the dark belt of timber by the river. Along the deep-rutted road in front a belated lumber-wagon passed slowly, the wheels crunching through the packed snow with a wavering, incessant shriek.
There was a sound of trampling, a crunching as of the rending of bones. He fired; ran a little nearer, fired again. The dogs were pushing ahead now in pursuit of whatever it was that fled. A moment, and Mackenzie heard the quick break of a galloping horse; fired his remaining shots after it, and called Dad to fetch the light.
As the horses whirled past, he clutched madly at the loose reins, see-sawing in the air. He held them, and the leather slid through his frenzied grasp, cutting his palms to the bone. When he reached the loop he was jerked off his feet with a terrible shock, and was whirled along the dusty road, the carriage-wheels grinding, crunching, and skidding within a foot of his head.
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