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Updated: April 30, 2025
The night was pretty dark, with neither moon nor stars visible, and as Brower had never dwelt thereabout, and knew nothing of the lay of the land, he was, naturally, not long in losing himself. He could not have said if he were getting farther away from the town or going back to it a most important matter to Orrin Brower.
I thought then he was dead, but presently he roused himself with a mighty effort. 'David Brower! he called loudly, and trying hard to rise, 'bring the horse! bring the horse! Mus' be goin', I tell ye. Man's dyin' over on the Plains. He went limp as a rag then. I could feel his heart leap and struggle feebly. 'There's a man dyin' here, said David Brower, in a low tone. 'Ye needn't rub no more.
I bent over the shoulder of Jed Feary for a view of the manuscript, closely written with a lead pencil, and marked with many erasures. 'Le's hear it, said David Brower. Then I moved the lamp to his elbow and he began reading: 'A talk with William Brower on the occasion of his going away to college and writ out in rhyme for him by his friend Jedediah Feary to be a token of respect.
A plug hat, rather the worse for wear, was lifted and caressed tenderly with one arm as the gentleman bowed before Mrs. Scarlet. "I am pleased to find you at home, Mrs. Scarlet." "I seldom go out, Mr. Ruggles, or Professor Darlington Ruggles, I suppose." "Never mind the handle, madam. I see you have company." The Professor turned a keen glance on Nick Brower as he spoke.
Then his solemn duty done, he returned to his mental comparison of prices. Also, there was Dwight Brower, a young fellow of nineteen or so, who acted unaccountably.
Elizabeth put her arms about David's neck and laid her head upon his shoulder and not one of us dare trust himself to speak for a little. Uncle Eb broke the silence. 'Got another present, he said. 'S a good deal better 'n gold er silver. A tall, bearded man came in. 'Mr Trumbull! Hope exclaimed, rising. 'David an' Elizabeth Brower, said Uncle Eb, 'the dead hes come if life.
"I'm going back and tell 'em how I was slugged and robbed of my horse." "They'll kill you if they suspect; dare you go back?" "I've been back once," he pointed out. He was helping Brower aboard. "Where did you get that bag?" he asked. "Found it by the rock where we were hiding: it's mine," replied Brower. Westmore tried to get him to leave it, but the little jockey was obstinate.
His horse stood dejectedly. When Brower had made fast the latigo, the horse as such dispirited animals often do heaved a deep sigh. Something snapped beneath the slight strain of the indrawn breath. "Dogged if your cinch ain't busted!" cried Meigs with a loud laugh. "Lucky for you your friend did borrow your saddle!
David Brower had prospered, as I have said before, and now he was chiefly concerned in the welfare of his children. So, that he might give us the advantages of the town, he decided either to lease or sell his farm by far the handsomest property in the township. I was there when a buyer came, in the last days of that summer.
"Why hasn't he done so? Why has he waited?" I told her of the situation as it concerned Brower. While the dissolution of partnership papers still existed and might still be recorded, such a murder would be useless. For naturally the dissolution abrogated the old partnership agreement. The girl's share of the property would, at her demise intestate, go to the state.
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