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Updated: June 17, 2025
"I wouldn't a slept the fore part of last night anyhow," Bunch said pointedly. "I hope I didn't keep you awake with my singin'?" Bowers's voice expressed a world of solicitude. "Was that you makin' that comical noise?" Bunch elevated his brows in astonishment. "I thought one of the horses was down, and chokin'." Bowers slammed a pyramid of pancakes upon the table.
The hurrying passersby slackened their steps to stare at her in candid interest, and she wondered if it were possible that her conspicuousness had anything to do with Bowers's mysterious disappearance.
Such abnormal growths were indicative of certain localities only, but, as they were not remunerative from a pecuniary point of view, were to be avoided by the sagacious woodman. It was clear, therefore, that Mr. Bowers's visit to Green Springs was not professional, and that he did not even figuratively accept the omen.
Kate and Bowers walked on without comment upon the incident, but when they had reached the yard, Bowers detached himself from Kate's side and made a rush to the nearest light where, turning his back with a secretive air, he took from the inner pocket of his inside coat the worn and yellowed photograph that Mullendore had recognized in Bowers's wagon. He looked at it long and hard.
Kate raised herself higher on her elbow and called sharply: "Bowers?" A sleepy response came from somewhere. "It's daylight hurry!" Bowers's voice, plaintive but stronger, answered: "I'd be ten pounds heavier if it wasn't for that word 'hurry." Kate smiled faintly.
She had taken over the valuable buck herd in the face of Bowers's protest, and was the first to graze on the top of the mountain, though the other bands were now also close to the summit. If more trouble was coming, it would very likely come quickly.
The lamb backed away, eyed him attentively for several minutes as he lay prostrate, and then quite as though a tightly coiled spring had been released, leaped into the air and landed with all four feet bunched in the small of Bowers's back. Bowers sat up and said complainingly as he grabbed the lamb by the wool and drew it towards him: "There ain't a minute's peace when you're awake, Mary!
Tredgold conferred with Miss Vickers, and that lady, after a moment's hesitation, drew a folded paper from her bosom and beckoned to Mr. Chalk. With a cry of amazement he recognised the identical map of Bowers's Island, which he had last seen in the hands of its namesake. It was impossible to mistake it, although an attempt to take it in his hand was promptly frustrated by the owner.
We worked continuously until 10 p.m. with only the shortest of meal intervals, and then, tired but contented, we "flattened out" in our sleeping-bags, bunks, or hammocks. The following day the same routine was continued and nearly the whole of the provision cases came ashore and were stacked in neat little piles under Bowers's direction.
Bowers's trembling fingers fumbled the paper and cast it fluttering toward the floor, but Shelby fastened on it in mid-air, read it, crumpled it, mechanically made it smooth again, and laid it gently on his desk. There came a second roar from the street, a medley of cheers, groans, hisses, and the blare of horns. Shelby again drew a curtain.
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