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Updated: June 23, 2025
Not until they were turning into Fourth Avenue did Dick Cronk speak again. Somehow he felt the emotion that struggled in the breast of the man beside him. For the first time in his life he was sorry for him. "Where are you going now, Tom?" he asked, knowing full well what the spiritless answer would be. "To that hell-hole of a place you call home," said Braddock.
"What's the matter?" inquired Wunpost who, after a few hours' sleep, had awakened in a most expansive mood; but she only sighed again and shook her head and gazed off across the quivering Sink. It was a hell-hole of torment to those who crossed its moods and yet in that waste she had found this man, who had changed her whole outlook on life.
She had; and it was only from her own obdurate bitchinesss that she concocted a barrier to keep herself from consciously recalling this father's spending of money and time to enlighten the dying. It was love in the best gesture mortals could do, and it went contrary to her assumption that human society was a loveless "hell-hole" that was beneath her.
This point, "New Hope," was the accidental intersection of the road leading from Allatoona to Dallas with that from Van Wert to Marietta, was four miles northeast of Dallas, and from the bloody fighting there for the next week was called by the soldiers "Hell-Hole." The night was pitch-dark, it rained hard, and the convergence of our columns toward Dallas produced much confusion.
In the red glow of the fire, he read: From: Launch Snipe At Sea. Five miles off Hell-Hole. Got into fight with Mascola about an hour ago. His boats drove ours from island. His men drunk and armed with shotguns. Some of boys pretty well filled up. Curlew lagged with engine trouble and was cut in two off Hell-Hole Isthmus. Sunk in five minutes by some big boat, running dark.
"Ay, ay, sonny," is the unmilitary but characteristic answer. "What's your news?" "Got there in time, and saved what's left of 'em; but it's a hell-hole, and you fellows are wanted quick as you can come, thirty miles ahead. Where's the colonel?" The corporal of the guard goes back to the bivouac, leading the two arrivals. One is a scout, a plainsman born and bred, the other a sergeant of cavalry.
"What of that?" rejoined Blake. "Think I don't know you're square, after the months we roughed-it together?" "Then But I can't leave you here in this hell-hole! You've no right to ask me to do that, Tom. If I could bring my guns ashore and stay with you But she'll never be more in need of some one, if you insist upon your plan. I say! I have it We'll slip you aboard after dark.
An' I can see Rojas's finish somewhere up along that awful hell-hole." Camp was made on a level spot. Yaqui took the horses to water, and then turned them loose in the arroyo. It was a tired and somber group that sat down to eat. The strain of suspense equaled the wearing effects of the long ride. Mercedes was calm, but her great dark eyes burned in her white face. Yaqui watched her.
Bronson had said it looked like the Gray Ghost. What was the Gray Ghost? Where did she clear from? And what was her purpose in putting in in the dark to Hell-Hole?
"I wouldn't be a woman for fifty dollars a day," he announced with grim conviction. "It'd make a devil out of anybody t' work in this hell-hole. No wonder you're s' peeked, child." John came back to the house almost immediately after leaving it to go to work in the afternoon. "You'll have to bake more pies, Elizabeth. The men have been put back by a breakdown.
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