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Updated: May 3, 2025
With a not-unnatural shyness, Dene stood aside for a moment or two; but feeling that, at any rate, he had earned his supper, he drew near the board. As he did so, one of the men he had seen in the coffee-house caught sight of him, scanned him curiously, and said: "New hand, eh? What's your line?" This was a somewhat awkward question, and Dene temporized. "Well, I don't quite know," he said.
I'm playing the giddy-goat not for your sake, my man; but but for your wife's, for Miriam's." "You're crossing to-night?" asked Heyton, hesitatingly, fearfully. "If there's anything I can do to to prove my gratitude " "You couldn't prove what doesn't exist," said Dene, with a laugh. "You're incapable of gratitude.
"Well, well, Silvermane, to think I'd live to see you wearing a saddle and bridle! He's even bigger than I thought. There's a horse, Hare! Never will be another like him in this desert. If Dene ever sees that horse he'll chase him to the Great Salt Basin. Dene's crazy about fast horses. He's from Kentucky, somebody said, and knows a horse when he sees one." "How are things?" queried Dave.
"Ach, ja! Sepp knows the springs where the deer drink," said Federl. "And you never took us there!" cried Ruth, reproachfully. "I would give anything to see the deer come and drink at sundown." Sepp felt his good breeding under challenge. "If the gracious Frau permits," with a gentlemanly bow to Mrs Dene, "and the ladies care to come but the way is hard "
It was the "old Italian garden," constructed under the design of a famous Italian gardener by the third duke; but its studied formality being displeasing to his successor, it was allowed to fall into picturesque decay and negligent profusion, which were not, however, disturbed by later descendants, a fact deplored by the artistic writer of the guide-book, who mournfully called attention to the rare beauty of the marble statues, urns, and fountains, ruined by neglect, although one or two of the rarer objects had been removed to Deep Dene Lodge, another seat of the present duke.
Perspiration glistened on his pasty, pale face and the rolls of fat that crowded over his flannel collar. His little, dead, white-rimmed, pale gray eyes had the ferocity of a hog's which has found something to rend and devour. He looked into their shocked faces and made a bow. "Goot ma a rnin, Mister and Missess Dene!" he said, and turned his back.
Rest easy, for she's absolutely safe." "Thank God!... then that's settled." Hare drew a long, deep breath. "Mescal told us what happened, how she got caught at the sand-strip and escaped from Holderness at Silver Cup. Was Dene hurt?" "Silvermane killed him." "Good God! How things come about! I saw you run Dene down that time here in White Sage. It must have been written.
I had a look at her just now, and if ever there was a jumping, rolling, sea-sick old tub, she's one." "A nice prospect," grunted the first man; "and we're short-handed, too; catch the old man taking a single man more than he wants." Dene pricked up his ears. Was the hand of Chance being extended already?
Their way back to the path where they had separated from Colonel Dene was long and toilsome. Sepp did his best to beguile it with hunter's yarns, more or less true, at any rate just as acceptable as if they had been proved and sworn to.
Lord Heyton dropped back into the chair and, covertly wiping the sweat from his face, which was white now, glanced from Dene to the fire, then back again; but his eyes could get no higher than Dene's waistcoat. "I I suppose you've come to kick up a row, to bully me?" he said, sullenly. "Not at all," retorted Dene, coolly.
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