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Updated: May 31, 2025
"Go and fetch me Chance's guns out of the bunkhouse," she ordered. Alvino hitched away, swinging his stiff leg, with laborious, slow gait. "You couldn't do anything against a crowd of desperate men they might kill you!" Frances said. "Let 'em kill me, then!" She lifted her hand, as if taking an oath.
"Miss Chance's letter was written many years ago," I resumed. "I wonder what has become of her since she wrote to you." "I know nothing about her." "Not even whether she is alive or dead?" "Not even that. What do these questions mean, Helena?" "Nothing, father." I declare he looked as if he suspected me! "Why don't you speak out?" he said. "Have I ever taught you to conceal your thoughts?
The name will be mentioned with respect if not affection, and a desire will be experienced to repay, in some way or on some occasion, the generous courtesy of the by-gone time. It is so easy to be civil and obliging, to be kindly and humane! We not only thus assist the comfort of others, but we promote our own mental enjoyment. Life, moreover, is full of chance's and changes.
The road seemed empty save for a lean brown shape that raced toward the Concho with sweeping stride. "It's the dog. Wonder what's up now?" Chance, his muzzle specked with froth and his tongue lolling, swung into the yard and trotted to Wingle. "Boss git piled ag'in?" queried the cook, patting Chance's head. "What you scratchin' about?" The dog lay panting and occasionally pawing at his collar.
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