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Updated: June 18, 2025
"Tew bad tew scare th' Leetle Woman," Ham said regretfully; "but 'twould be a heap worse tew have Quinley an' Ugger git that thar gold. I got scart of them jest as soon as th' Leetle Woman showed up th' big nugget; for they must be a-lurkin' 'round here somewhere, keepin' an eye on us; an', if they heer'd of Dickson's gold, they shore would try an' git it.
They've blown in the big door, and the feck o' them's inside." "And Mr. Heritage?" was Dickson's anxious inquiry. "When I last saw him he was up at a windy, shootin'. I think he's gotten on to the roof. I wouldna wonder but the place is on fire." "Here, this is awful," Dickson groaned. "We can't let Mr. Heritage be killed that way. What strength is the enemy?"
Now, 'bout y'ur dads. That's their house up thar, 'bout a dozen rods beyond Dickson's. But, I reckon, we won't find none of 'em at home this time of th' day," and he turned his horses into a rude trail that wound up the side of the hill toward the little grove of pine trees, in which the boys could see the little cabin where Dickson lived and beyond that a larger log house.
It was imperative that they should not get in, and he got Dickson's pistol ready with the firm intention of shooting them if necessary. But they did nothing, except to hold a conference in the hazel clump a hundred yards to the north, when Dobson seemed to be laying down the law, and Leon spoke rapidly with a great fluttering of hands.
Gourlay, he became that unfortunate man's bitterest foe. How far Dickson's enmity was stimulated by coöperation with the leaders of the Compact party at York will probably never be known. That there was something more than a merely tacit understanding that Mr. Gourlay was to be got rid of is beyond question.
In a stiff-backed chair sat an elderly woman, who seemed to feel the cold, for she was muffled to the neck in a fur coat. Beside her, so that the late afternoon light caught her face and head, stood a girl. Dickson's first impression was of a tall child. The pose, startled and wild and yet curiously stiff and self-conscious, was that of a child striving to remember a forgotten lesson.
They continued to adopt and circulate books, that they might still enlighten the public mind on the subject, and preserve it interested in favour of their institution. They kept the press indeed almost constantly going for this purpose. Wadstrom; and Dickson's Letters on Slavery. These were all new publications. To those they added others of less note, with new editions of the old.
It was not summer yet, but spring; and it was not gentle spring ethereally mild, as in Thomson's Seasons, but nipping spring with an easterly wind, as in Johnson's, Jackson's, Dickson's, Smith's, and Jones's Seasons. The grating wind sawed rather than blew; and as it sawed, the sawdust whirled about the sawpit.
Dickson's tent, although it was not over ten yards from where he stood; and he was about to step forward to replenish it, when a dark object leaped by him, so close that he could have touched it with his outstretched rifle, and disappeared in the darkness before he could utter a word or throw his gun to his shoulder, and the next instant the air was rent by a piercing shriek from Pedro, followed by the flash and the report of his pistol and his yells of fright.
Many a thing people will have to say to one another about the pleasant times they had together, or several other subjects best known to themselves, of coorse. Larry would come home in her absence, and finding the door locked, would slip down to Squire Dickson's, to chat with the steward or gardener, or with the sarvints in the kitchen.
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