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Updated: June 18, 2025
Señor! Mira!" A boatman touched his shoulder. Two heads were swirling down the flood, a light and a dark. Bachelder instantly knew Ethel, but, as yet, he could not make out the strong swimmer who was at such infinite pains to hold the fair head above water.
Bachelder painted the small thing, kneeling by her mother's side before the great gold altar. Her starched skirt, with its band of red velours, stands of itself leveling her head, so that she looks for all the world like a serious cherub peering out from a wonderfully embroidered bath-cabinet. But ah! the serious devotion of the faces!
Then, before they could reach her, she shot suddenly up till her bust gleamed wet to the waist, turned, and dived, carrying down the senseless bride. Shouting, Bachelder also dived in vain. In vain, the dives of his men. Death, that mighty potentate, loves sweetness full well as a shining mark.
Wall, there wuz sights of Adventists up in the Risley deestrict, and amongst the rest wuz an old bachelder, Joe Charnick. And Joe Charnick wuz, I s'poze, of all Advents, the most Adventy. He jest knew the world wuz a comin' to a end that very day, the last day of June, at four o'clock in the afternoon. And he got his robe all made to go up in.
"It is a comfort to know that your woman won't go gadding while you are away, and that is more than a fellow can make sure of at home." These were his last words to Bachelder. He was to be absent two months, but after he had reported adversely on a mine in Sonora, he was ordered to expert a group in far Guerrera, where the mountains turn on edge and earth tosses in horrible tumult.
"The river is rising," he said, when he could trust himself to speak. "Another foot, and away goes the bridge. When do you go to the mine?" "Tomorrow." "Mrs. Steiner goes with you?" "No, too wet." Bachelder hesitated. "I'd offer you my quarters, but you see I am neither married nor unmarried." "No!" Paul agreed with ponderous respectability. "It would never do.
He began: "It was a beastliness that we committed " "That you committed," Bachelder sharply corrected. "And what of the child?" Blinking in the old fashion, Paul went on, "I was coming to that. She cannot be allowed to grow up a little Mexican. I shall adopt her and have her properly educated."
Bachelder was settin', with his legs curled up under him, mendin' sail, and he begun to spin one o' them yarns o' hisn, with his voice pitched up middlin' high, and the boys, they begun to laugh and cheer.
"Talkin' about tater-bugs," he said, and he glanced at me with a preliminary gleam in his eye; "Bachelder Lot was tellin' me the other mornin, he said he was eddicatin' a couple on 'em.
"'Waal, says Bachelder, coughing a little, so that's Bachelder's way o' talking 'we have sufficient reason to eenfer, Deacon, that, in all probabeelity, they went a Ceape Cod mile." My informant's delight at this reminiscence was huge. It yielded to a more subdued sense of the ludicrous when I asked him if there was any public conveyance to Wallencamp.
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