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It was as it had been for centuries, calm and untroubled, unmoved by floods and slides, by fires and slow glacial changes. Yes, it was beautiful and Hollister looked a long time, for he was not sure he would see it again. He had a canoe and a tent cached in that silent valley, but for these alone he would not return.
Perhaps that decided Hollister. Perhaps he would have made that decision in any case. He had no friends to be shocked. He had no reputation to be smirched. He was, he had said with a bitter wistfulness, a stray dog. And Doris Cleveland was in very much the same position. Two unfortunates cleaving to each other, moved by a genuine human passion.
A strange panic seized Hollister, the alarm of the unexpected, a reluctance to face the crisis which he had not expected to face for another twenty-four hours. He stepped down off the porch, walked rapidly away toward the chute mouth, crossed that and climbed to a dead fir standing on the point of rocks beyond.
And the man was Bland, doing precisely what Hollister was doing, looking through a pair of field glasses. Hollister stood well back in the room. He was certain Bland could not see that he himself was being watched. In any case, Bland was not looking at Hollister's house.
You're sort of at a standstill." "I can't," Hollister explained. "Doris is coming back next week." Lawanne looked at him intently. "Eyes all right?" "I don't know. I suppose so," Hollister replied. "She didn't say. She merely wrote that she was coming on the Wednesday steamer." "Well, that'll be all right too," Lawanne said. "You'll get over being so down in the mouth then."
Ethel Hollister's Second Summer as a Camp Fire Girl The morning after Ethel had declared herself her mother came up to her room. She could see that Mrs. Hollister had not slept and her eyes were red from weeping.
In a few days, however, it was well known for at least fifteen miles around the Cross-roads that Tom D'Willerby was going to build a new house, and that it was going to be fitted up with great splendour with furniture purchased at Brownsboro. "Store carpetin' on every floor an' paper on every wall," said Dave Hollister to Molly when he went home after hearing the news.
"What business have you here, anyhow?" she went on fiercely. "I am here to adopt Mrs. Hollister's second child," stated Rankin, collecting himself with an effort. Mrs. Lowder's pale face flushed. "You'll do nothing of the sort. I shall adopt my brother's child myself! How dare you a perfect stranger " "Mrs. Hollister wishes it," said Rankin.
He noticed that the younger fellows were pressing closer to him. Pretty soon they would disarm him. If he was going to make a fight for his life, it had to be now. His arm dropped to his side, close to the butt of the revolver he carried. He was too late. Hollister jumped for his wrist and at the same time Mike flung himself across the bar and garroted him.
I put that message in an envelope, and left it on his table where he'll surely see it the first thing when he gets back to-night, addressed to 'Bob Hollister, Diamond Merchant, Cell No. 99, Pentonville Prison." "Aha!" said I, my doubts clearing. "Likewise Ho-ho," said Holmes.
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