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The breast pocket holding the grain-leather notebook and the photograph of David Dawson Rand was buttoned as it had been, and the notebook bulged the cloth slightly as before. But the contents of that book and the pictured face of Rand now were stamped on the brain of Schwandorf. A sneering, snarling smile curled the heavy mouth of Schwandorf.
Rand," he protested. "Look here; I'll give you seventy-five dollars' credit on anything else in the shop. You certainly can't find fault with an offer like that." "I don't want anything else in the shop; I want this revolver you sold me." Rand gave him a look of supercilious insolence that was at least a two hundred per cent improvement on Rivers at his most insolent.
Perhaps I'm wrong to think of it at all, or to care what he will think of me, except for the sake of the child his child, Rand that I must leave behind me. He will know that IT never abused him. No, God bless its sweet heart! IT never was wild and wicked and hateful, like its cruel, crazy mother. And he will love it; and you, perhaps, will love it too just a little, Rand! Look at it!"
She threw open the closed shutters. "I'm jutht afraid of lightning when I'm by myself. How are you, thir?" "Very well. Vinie, I want a basin of warm water and soap." "Yeth, thir. The kettle's on. I'll fix it in Tom's room." In the bare little chamber Rand washed the blood from his coat-sleeve. It was not easy to do, but at last the cloth was clean.
Gresham demanded. "I never kid about Those Who Have Passed On," Rand denied piously. Then he recited the already hackneyed description of what had happened to Rivers, with careful attention to all the gruesome details. "So I called copper, directly. Sergeant McKenna's up a stump about it, and looking in all directions for a suspect." Gresham was silent for a moment, then swore softly.
It was not thought, even by their friends, that the Uncas had much chance against the others, whose crews, particularly the Alton's, were much heavier and stronger. "Is that better?" asked Rand, after they had rowed a short time. "'Tis a thrifle betther," replied Gerald. "Av ye do as well to-morrow, mebbe we won't be disgraced intirely, Oi dunno."
From the mould of a million generations stalk and leaf arose for their brief hour of light and life. When it was spent, they would rest for aeon, then stir again. In the silence was heard the fall of the pine cone. Rand lay, face down, upon the rock. In his mind there was now no thought of Cary, no thought of Jacqueline, nor of Fairfax Cary, nor of any other of the dead and living.
Out of a clear sky, his words falling crisply through the little silence, he demanded of no one in particular and in all seeming innocence: "What's happened to No-luck Drennen? I ain't seen him here of late." Kootanie George turned his head slowly and stared at him. Rand was fingering his cards, his eyes hastily busied with their corners. George turned from him to Ernestine.
They were now upon the edge of the throng, which suddenly fell from excited talking to a breathless attention. A tall man of commanding presence and ringing voice had mounted a chair, set at the top of the steps to the Eagle porch, and unfolded a paper. Rand touched upon the shoulder the man before him. "Mr. Ritchie, I have just come in from the country, and have heard nothing.
From a plate on the windowsill he took a crust of bread, and, raising the sash, crumbled it upon the snow without. The sparrows came at once, alighting near his hand with a tameness that spoke of pleasing association with the providence above them. "No," said Rand at last, "I am not going over to the other camp if by that you mean the Federalist camp. Must one forever sign under a captain?
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