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Updated: May 27, 2025
Knocked senseless by the concussion, he had lain as dead, for the best part of five minutes. After which he had come slowly to his senses bewildered, bruised and sore, but otherwise no worse for the accident. He came to himself to find a weeping woman clutching him stranglingly round the neck, while she tried to kiss his dust-smeared head.
We were sitting composedly when the lieutenant scrambled to us, among our rocks; the troopers followed, curiously scanning. His stubbled red face, dust-smeared, queried us keenly; so did his curt voice. "Just in time?" "In time," I croaked. "Water! For her for me." There was a canteen apiece. We sucked. "You are the two from the Mormon wagon train?" he asked. "Yes, sir. You know?" I uttered.
"What is this I hear?" "Go away, Signorina, I beseech you," exclaimed the Colonel of carbineers. "Something dreadful has occurred." But she disregarded him and faced Norvin Blake. He raised his dripping, dust-smeared face and nodded, whereat she closed her eyes an instant and swayed. But she made no outcry. "Take her away," he wheezed painfully. "God in heaven! Don't you understand?"
Rodney watched the two a little cynically from the wall. Peter looked what he was a limping vagabond tramp, dust-smeared, bare-headed, very much part of the twilight road. In spite of his knapsack, he had the air of possessing nothing and smiling over the thought.
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