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The sailors and Captain Pickersgill all rose and went to the window, to ascertain Corbett's fortune by this new species of augury. The blue pigeon flapped his wings, and then he sidled up to the white one; at last, the white pigeon flew off the wall and settled on the roof of the adjacent house. "Bravo, white pigeon!" said Corbett; "I shall be here again in a week."
When Manuel descended from the El Tovar hack which had brought him from the station to that hotel the first person he saw standing upon the porch was Valencia Valdés. He could hardly believe his eyes, for of course she could not be here. He had left her at Corbett's, had taken the stage and the train, and now found her waiting for him. The thing was manifestly impossible. Yet here she was.
I'm still lord of the Rio Chama Valley unless my lawyers are fooling me mighty bad." "It's a difference of opinion that makes horse races, Señor," retorted Manuel gaily from his pillows. "I'll bet one of Mrs. Corbett's cookies there's no difference of opinion between my lawyers and those of Miss Valdés. What do you honestly think yourself about the legal end, ma'am?"
I invariably insisted that our drivers travel as long as there was light, which at this season lasted until after eight o'clock, and we pushed on until we came to Corbett's Bite, a place that also rejoices in the name of New York, the same having been facetiously bestowed upon it by some fisherman wag, because four small huts had been collected there to make a "city."
Miss Valdés turned on her heel and swept up the steps of the porch; but she stopped an instant before she entered the house to say over her shoulder: "A buggy will be at your disposal to take you to Corbett's. If it is convenient, I should like to have you go to-night." He smiled ironically. "I'll not trouble you for the buggy, señorita. If I'm all you say I am, likely I'm a horse thief, too.
You are staying at Corbett's, I presume?" "Yes." "You can't walk back there to-night. That is certain." She slipped from the saddle. "You'll have to go back to the ranch with me, sir. I can walk very well." He felt a wave of color sweep his face. "I couldn't take the horse and let you walk." "That is nonsense, sir. You can, and you shall."
In the meantime she could assure him that she would always be sorry for the way in which she had misjudged him. The young woman called for her horse again and rode to Corbett's, which was the nearest post-office. In the envelope with her letter was also the one of her grandfather marked "Exhibit A." She, too, carefully registered the contents before mailing.
Perhaps it made even greater her love for Corbett, but it was destined to perplex him. In September the air is crisp along the route from Black Bay to Duluth, and from that through fair Wisconsin to Chicago, and Corbett's spirits were high throughout the journey. Was he not to meet Nell Morrison, in his estimation the sweetest girl on earth?
The sailors and Captain Pickersgill all rose and went to the window, to ascertain Corbett's fortune by this new species of augury. The blue pigeon flapped his wings, and then he sidled up to the white one; at last, the white pigeon flew off the wall and settled on the roof of the adjacent house. "Bravo, white pigeon!" said Corbett; "I shall be here again in a week."
Corbett's neighbor, young Mrs. Brydon, in such a way, that, as Mrs. Corbett afterwards explained to Da Corbett, "you could tell they had heard something." "Our lads saw her over at the Orangemen's ball in Millford, and they said Rance Belmont was with her more than her own man," said Mrs. Berry, as she melted the frost from her eyebrows by holding her face over the stove. "Oh, well," Mrs.
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