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Updated: May 13, 2025
What fault was it of his that her father and his father had fallen out over the mine? He had shown by the stock that the treachery had been Blount's and neither of them was to blame. What fault was it of his that she had a shrewish mother who was bent upon ruining her life? Had he not endured abuse and suffered grievous wounds before he had asserted his rights?
Stiff Neck George had been Blount's gunman on the momentous occasion when they had tried to jump the Paymaster and the Widow Huff had put him to flight with one blast from her trusty shotgun. But now that big interests were sending in their experts and mining was picking up everywhere Stiff Neck George might forget that humiliating defeat, so Death Valley Charley put on his six-shooter.
Scarcely a month remained before the bond and lease lapsed and Wiley's option on Blount's personal stock but any day he might raise the money and, by taking over Blount's stock, place him out of the running for good.
There was an hour to spare; and if the vice-president of the Transcontinental was not the king, he was at least a great man, and one whose invitation was in some sense a royal command. "Certainly, I'll be glad to go with you," was Blount's acquiescent rejoinder.
Then as I run to see, I hears Pete Warboys yelling out `They shot me with a big gun they shot me with a big gun." "Hadn't some one better fetch the doctor?" said a fresh voice. "He's gone out," cried another. "Shot me with a big gun," yelled Pete again. "Thank you, yes, thank you," came now in a voice which made Tom Blount's heart leap. "I don't think I am much hurt. Where is my boy Tom?"
So revived was the actuality of Sir Blount's recent life and death by this incident, that the distress of her personal relations with Swithin was the single force in the world which could have coerced her into abandoning to him the interval she would fain have set apart for getting over these new and painful impressions.
"6th mo. 22d, 1791. We passed on to Augusta, Georgia. They can scarcely tolerate us, on account of our abhorrence of slavery. On the 28th we got to Savannah, and lodged at one Blount's, a hard-hearted slaveholder. One of his lads, aged about fourteen, was ordered to go and milk the cow: and falling asleep, through weariness, the master called out and ordered him a flogging.
But on emerging from the dining-hall she all but collided with the secretary, who had come noiselessly across the verandah; and she was so overcome by the thought of the danger she had run, and by Miss Blount's extreme surprise at Dr Pughson's leniency, that she allowed herself to be driven back to the examination-room without a word.
At the other end of the counter Blount was lighting an unusually refractory pipe which persisted in going out at every third puff. Williams, noting a sharp projection in the side pocket of Blount's coat, smiled quizzically. "Derringer," he speculated. "Well, there ain't no accountin' for tastes. An' I've heard that Blount got two men in one scrap down in No Man's Land afore he come here.
"We're definitely out of the fight," he reported shortly, helping his companion down from the driving-seat. Patricia was still trembling and pale. "You mean that we can't go on to the city?" she quavered. "Not unless we walk; and of course that is out of the question." "Then you you can't keep your appointment with Judge Hemingway." Blount's smile was scornful.
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