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Updated: June 12, 2025
They had given her to understand that they were beating out the rival party, but he believed that in spite of all their efforts there was in Joanne's mind a comprehension which she did not reveal in voice or look. To-day she was no different than yesterday, or the day before, except that her cheeks were not so deeply flushed, and there was an uneasy questing in her eyes.
Donald MacDonald had lifted his face to the sunrise; out from under his battered hat the morning breeze sweeping through the valley of the Frazer tossed his shaggy hair; his great owl-gray beard swept his breast; his broad, gaunt shoulders were hunched a little forward as he looked into the east. Again Aldous looked into Joanne's eyes.
And then, suddenly, every drop of blood in his body blazed into fierce life. In the glow of one of the station lamps stood a group of men. The faces of all were turned toward them. One he recognized a bloated, leering face grinning devilishly at them. It was Quade! A low, frightened cry broke from Joanne's lips, and he knew that she, too, had seen him. But it was not Quade that she had looked for.
Was that thought in Joanne's mind, too? Her finger-nails pricked his flesh. He looked at her. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were tense and gray. And then her eyes shot open wide and staring. They heard, faintly though it came to them once, twice, three times, four, five the firing of a gun! John Aldous straightened, and a great breath fell from his lips. "Five times!" he said.
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