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Updated: May 4, 2025
Even then there was no certainty that the prisoner ever would see the inside of the Meander jail, for the sheriff of that county was nothing more than one of Chadron's cowboys, elevated to office to serve the unrighteous desires of the men who had put him there.
Frances asked, wondering, indeed, what explanation could have lessened his offense in Saul Chadron's eyes. "If I had known him, I would have understood," Nola replied, vaguely, in soft low voice, as if communing with herself. "You! Well, perhaps perhaps even you would have understood." "Look he moved!" "Sh-h-h! your talking disturbs him, Nola. Go to bed you can't help me any here."
If ever amends were made to any little highland bonnet in this world, then Alan Macdonald's was that bonnet, hanging there among the flaring pennants and trivial little schoolgirl trophies on Nola Chadron's wall. Chadron came home toward evening at the head of sixty men. He had raised his army speedily and effectively.
That was the hour set for him to go. "Silver Threads" was saved for the end, and when its last strain died Mrs. Chadron's face was hidden in her hands. She was rocking gently, her handkerchief fallen to the floor. Banjo put his bow in its place in the lid of the case, the rosin in its little box.
Saul Chadron had been a great and noble man to some who wept in its silent rooms as the gloaming deepened into darkness over the garden, where the last leaves of autumn were tugging at their anchorage to sail away. Even Frances Landcraft in her vigil beside Macdonald's cot felt pity for Chadron's fall. She regretted, at least, that he had not gone out of life more worthily.
Frances asked the question abruptly, like one throwing down some troublesome and heavy thing that he has labored gallantly to conceal. It was the first word that she had spoken since they had taken refuge from their close-pressing pursuers in the dugout that some old-time homesteader had been driven away from by Chadron's cowboys.
But this nester had held out for more than two years against his forces, armed by some invisible strength, it seemed, guarded against ambuscades and surprises by some cunning sense which led him whole and secure about his nefarious ways. Not alone that, but other homesteaders had come and settled near him across the river on two other big ranches which cornered there against Chadron's own.
"Yes, but they go shooting sheriffs," she protested. "They'll not be doing so much careless and easy shooting around here since Colonel Brigadier-General Landcraft and that sounds more like his size, too gave them a rubdown with the iron hand. The cattle barons' day is over; their sun went down when Mark Thorn brought the holy scare to Saul Chadron's door." "Father is of the same opinion.
Unlike the meal of canned oysters which he had consumed as Chadron's guest not many days before, Thorn was not welcomed to this by friendly words and urging to take off the limit. Chadron sat watching him, in divided attention and with dark face, as if he turned troubles over in his mind.
Banjo drew bow again, no more words on either side, and began his song: All o-lone and sad he left me, But no oth-o's bride I'll be; For in flow-os he bedecked me, In tho cottage by tho sea. When he finished, Mrs. Chadron's head was bent upon her arm across the little workstand where her basket stood. Her shoulders were moving in piteous convulsions, but no sound of crying came from her.
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