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Updated: May 14, 2025
Jack Everson made no reply, but, lying down on his back, he slightly separated his raised knees, and, by crossing his ankles, made a rest for the barrel of his rifle. The left arm was crooked under his head, so as to serve as a pillow or support, leaving the hand to steady the stock of his gun, while the right inclosed the trigger guard.
It was Jack Everson who uttered the exclamation, loud enough for all to hear. He pointed down stream as he spoke, and every one perceived the dreaded boat returning. Although nearer at hand than before, it seemed to be following the course of the river, and there was hope that it would again pass without discovering the shrinking ones so near land.
In fact, the blow had been so swift and unexpected, so incomprehensible, that it had left them thoroughly alarmed. The body of Traynor had already been brought ashore and placed in a local undertaking shop. With Everson, Kennedy and I hastened to visit it. Traynor had been an athlete and powerfully built, which made his sudden death seem all the more strange.
In the language of the West, Jack Everson had the drop on him, and none could be more alive to the fact than the fellow who was thus taken at disadvantage. It was merited punishment for his foolhardiness in inviting his own discomfiture. At first the chances of the two were equal, but the white man was more alive to the situation.
I don't think either of them really cared for each other. Perhaps she was a bit jealous of the ladies of the party. I don't know anything much about it, only I remember one night in the cafe of the Palace Hotel, I thought Gage and another fellow would fight a duel almost until Everson dropped in and patched the affair up and the next day his yacht left for Golden Key."
What did the treachery of one member of the expedition mean? Above all, who was it? We had been so intent watching from the deck the all too slow approach of the little power-boat from the trawler that we had paid no attention to what was on our other quarter. "A tug approaching, sir," reported the man on watch to Everson. "Seems to be heading for us, sir." We turned to look.
Then, on passing the Alexandra Road, I explained to Desmoulin that he would sleep there, at No. 20, where Wareham has a local office and where his managing clerk, Everson by name, resides.
Little Jerry looked mysterious. "I ain't tellin' all I know," said he. The two young fellows laughed. Here was education for them! "Maybe you'll go back to the old country?" put in Dicky Everson. "No, sir-ee!" said Little Jerry. "I'm American." "Maybe you'll be president some day." "That's what my father says," replied the little chap "president of a miners' union."
It was early the next morning that a young lady, very much perturbed, called on us at our hotel, scarcely waiting even the introduction of her plainly engraved card bearing the name, Miss Norma Sanford. "Perhaps you know of my sister, Asta Sanford, Mrs. Orrin Everson," she began, speaking very rapidly as if under stress. "We're down here on Asta's honeymoon in Orrin's yacht, the Belle Aventure."
"A wonderful Providence has preserved us thus far," said Jack Everson; "but it is too much to expect we shall emerge unscathed from this hell hole." "I hope nothing will happen to Mary before we rejoin her." "We shall be with her in a minute." Nevertheless, a vague fear disturbed both. The parent was again leading, and he unconsciously hastened his footsteps.
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