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One of the first results of the Old Home Week agitation had, in fact, been the reappearance of Lucius Harney in the village street. He had been vaguely spoken of as being not far off, but for some weeks past no one had seen him at North Dormer, and there was a recent report of his having left Creston River, where he was said to have been staying, and gone away from the neighbourhood for good.
Harney's starting earlier than usual today," she answered. "Mr. Harney, Mr. Harney? Ain't Mr. Harney learned how to drive a horse yet?" She made no answer, and he sat tilted back in his chair, drumming on the rail of the porch. It was the first time he had ever spoken of the young man in that tone, and Charity felt a faint chill of apprehension.
Then still up-hill to Harney, beyond which we cross Dale Creek Bridge a wonderful structure, 650 feet long and 126 feet high, spanning the creek from bluff to bluff. Looking down through the interstices of the wooden road, what a distance the thread of water in the hollow seemed to be below us!
I don't believe as how Bill Harney takes to skating." "Is this Bill Harney a good sort?" asked Tom. "If he is, I can tell you he has got into bad company." "Bill isn't so bad when he's sober. It's when he gits full o' rum that he makes things lively. He's a great drinker." They were soon on the river, which at this point was fifty to sixty feet wide.
The party had proved a most unsatisfactory affair. She had not made the sensation she expected to make. Harney had scarcely noticed her at all, having neither eyes nor ears for any one save Ellen Tiffton, who surely must have told that Hugh was not invited, for, in no other way could 'Lina account for the remark she overheard touching her want of heart in failing to resent a brother's insult.
About the same time, the Shoshones, under Egan and Otis, left their reservation and united their forces in Harney Valley, numbering at that time from a thousand to twelve hundred warriors. They were encumbered, however, by their women and children and a vast herd of stock, and as a result moved slowly. Meantime the scattered detachments of troops were being concentrated and sent in pursuit.
The home of old man Smith in Happy Valley, on the north side of Stein Mountain, the French ranch in Harney and the Cummins ranch on the John Day were exceptions. In the fights at these places some of the Indians were killed and the houses were burned out of revenge. With characteristic Indian wantonness and wastefulness hundreds of cattle were shot down, only the tongue being taken out for food.
Instead of remaining separate and absolute, she would be compared with other people, and unknown things would be expected of her. She was too proud to be afraid, but the freedom of her spirit drooped.... Harney had not fixed any date for his return; he had said he would have to look about first, and settle things.
She did not answer him at once, but seemed to weigh his words as she looked out across the moonlight. "Ye mean, will I let ye put me in a picter?" she said at last. He nodded. "Yes," she answered. "I reckon he told ye he was a-paintin' Dusk's picter," "Mis'" Harney said to her boarders a week later. "Mr. Lennox?" returned Rebecca; "yes, he told us." "I thort so," nodding benignly.
She thought Harney looked a little disconcerted; but he passed his fine handkerchief over his warm brow, said gaily, "Come along, then," and rose with a last pat for the pink-eyed dog. Mr.
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