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Updated: May 12, 2025
Of Caxton's pursuits and travels abroad, we know little more than that in his peregrinations he confined himself, for the most part, to the countries of Brabant, Flanders, Holland, and Zealand, and finally entered into the service, or at least the household, of Margaret, Duchess of Burgundy, who encouraged him to finish his translation of Le Fevre's "History of Troy," assisted him with her criticisms upon his English, and amply rewarded him upon the completion of his labor.
I never see 'em so rambunctious afore. But I hung on yere, hidin' out, cause I didn't hev nowhar else ter go. An' yisterday, just ahead o' the blizzard, a Kiowa buck drifted in yere. Slipped down the bluff, an' caught me 'fore ever I saw him. Never laid eyes on the red afore but he wus friendly 'nough, natch'ally mistakin' me fer one o' Le Fevre's herders.
Hamlin turned the situation over deliberately in his mind, satisfied that Hughes had reviewed the possibilities correctly. If Le Fevre's party had got through at all, then that was the most likely spot for them to be hiding in. They would have drifted beyond doubt, farther than Hughes supposed, probably, as he had been sheltered from the real violence of the wind as it raged on the open plain.
If they met as meet they must in that contracted post it would be most formal, a mere exchange of reminiscence, gratitude expressed by a smile and pleasant word. He could expect no more; might esteem himself fortunate, indeed, to receive even that recognition. Meanwhile he would endeavor to strike Le Fevre's trail.
Moreover he knew the lay of the land, the trail the fugitives would follow, and to some extent Black Kettle's camp. Little by little Hamlin drew from him every detail of Le Fevre's life in the cattle country, becoming more and more convinced that both men were thieves, their herds largely stolen through connivance with Indians.
The Accusing Spirit which flew up to Heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in; and the Recording Angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever. The sun looked bright the morning after to every eye in the village but Le Fevre's and his afflicted son's.
It is from the same source with the one about the mastiff. A man by the name of Le Fevre, many years ago, lived on a farm in the United States, near the Blue mountains. Those mountains at that time abounded in deer and other animals. One day, the youngest of Le Fevre's children, who was four years old, disappeared early in the morning.
The man shuffled uneasily, but the Sergeant's right hand came to a level. "Did you?" "I s'pose thar ain't no use o' denyin' it," reluctantly, eyeing the gun in the corner, "but I did n't mean to shoot up no outfit but Le Fevre's. So help me, I did n't! The danged snow was so thick I could n't see nohow, and I never s'posed any one was on the trail 'cept him.
Whatcher goin' ter do, Sergeant? Jump 'em a hoss-back, an' just pump lead?" Hamlin had thought this over as he rode and already had planned his attack. The opening to the valley, along which Le Fevre's exhausted party were slowly advancing toward them, seemed favorable it was narrow and badly choked with snow.
The sixth volume, again, which contains the irresistible dialogue between Mr. and Mrs. Shandy on the great question of the "breeching of Tristram," and the much-admired, if not wholly admirable, episode of Le Fevre's death, is fully entitled to rank beside its predecessors.
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