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Updated: September 20, 2025
But something more than his white, soft, girlish skin was exposed; the shirt front was dyed quite red with blood from a slight cut on the shoulder. He remembered to have felt a scratch while struggling with Hornsby. The girl's soft eyes sparkled. "Let ME," she said, vivaciously. "Do! I'm good at wounds. Come over here. No stay there. I'll come over to you."
"And YOU?" to Hornsby, "onless you're kalkilatin' to take a little 'pasear' you're booked OUTSIDE. Get up." It is probable that Charley assisted Mr. Hornsby as promptly to his seat, for the next moment the coach was rolling on.
It was his habit usually to ride with the driver, but the presence of Hornsby and Miss Porter on the box seat changed his intention. Yet he had the satisfaction of seeing that neither had noticed him, and as there was no other passenger inside, he stretched himself on the cushion of the back seat and gave way to moody reflections.
He only succeeded in forcing the door open in spite of Miss Porter's superior strategy, and I fear I must add, muscle also and threw himself passionately at Hornsby's throat, where he hung on and calmly awaited dissolution. But he had, in the onset, driven Hornsby out into the road and the moonlight. "Here! Somebody take my lines." The voice was "Mountain Charley's," the driver.
She asked me to stand betwixt Hornsby and you. So don't you tackle him, and I'll see he don't tackle you," and with a portentous wink Mountain Charley whipped up his horses and was gone. Cass opened the packet. It contained nothing but the ring. Unmitigated by any word of greeting, remembrance, or even raillery, it seemed almost an insult.
Later she even exempted her mother from the possession of this divine effluence. After a moment she asked, suddenly, "What are you going to do with Hornsby?" Cass had not thought of him. His short-lived rage was past with the occasion that provoked it. Without any fear of his adversary, he would have been content quite willing to meet him no more. He only said, "That will depend upon him."
"Do you know Hornsby?" asked Cass, unconsciously a trifle irritated. "No, but I'll bring him." She wheeled her horse into the road. In the presence of this living energy Cass quite forgot the helpless dead. "Have you been long in these parts, Miss?" he asked. "About two weeks," she answered, shortly. "Good-by, just now.
He began to hate himself for having stayed; he would have fled but for shame. Nor was his good humor restored when at the close of a weary half hour two galloping figures emerged from the dusty horizon Hornsby and the young girl. His vague annoyance increased as he fancied that both seemed to ignore him, the coroner barely acknowledging his presence with a nod.
New York-Mrs. John Winters Brannan, Miss Belle Sheinberg, Mrs. L. H. Hornsby, Mrs. Paula Jakobi, Mrs. Cyn- thia Cohen, Miss M. Tilden Burritt, Miss Dorothy Day, Mrs. Henry Butterworth, Miss Cora Week, Mrs. P. B. Johns, Miss Elizabeth Hamilton, Mrs. Ella O. Guilford, New York City; Miss Amy Juengling, Miss Hattie Kruger, Buffalo. Second Group Massachusetts-Mrs. Agnes H. Morey, Brookline; Mrs.
The figure that jumped from the box and separated the struggling men belonged to this singularly direct person. "You're riding inside?" said Charley, interrogatively, to Cass. Before he could reply Miss Porter's voice came from the window: "He is!" Charley promptly bundled Cass into the coach. "And you?" to Hornsby, "onless you're kalkilatin' to take a little 'pasear' you're booked outside.
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