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Updated: June 8, 2025
I must tell some man living my secret, and you're the only one. Besides I trust you. Surely I do." Larry Kildene went around behind the stall where he kept his own horse and returned with a hollow tube of burnt clay about a foot long. Into this he thrust a pine knot heavy with pitch, and, carrying a bunch of matches in his hand, he led the way back of the fodder.
Still she remained convinced that Larry Kildene would return with her husband, and her daughter's anxiety as to what might be the outcome, when the big man should arrive alone, deepened. Harry King guardedly and tenderly watched over the two women.
Larry Kildene had instructed him how to cure and dry the meat and to store it and also how to care for the skins, but because of the effect of that sight of the bloody sheep's pelt on Amalia, he never showed her a poor little dead creature, or the skin of one. He brought her mother whatever they required of food, carefully prepared, and that was all.
It's not at all like what I had thought it might be." Amalia leaned forward eagerly. "Oh, tell me more a little, what you thought might be." "This letter has added more to the heartache than all else that could be. Either Harry King is my son Richard Kildene or he is the son of the man who hated me and brought me sorrow. There you see the reason he would tell me nothing. He could not."
Distant and cold his manner often seemed to her, but intuitively she respected his moods, if moods they might be called: she suspected not. A week after the first snowfall Larry Kildene returned. He had lingered long after he should have taken the trail and had gone farther than he had dreamed of going when he parted from his three companions on the mountain top.
All day long the snow had been falling, and for the last few miles he had found it almost impossible to crawl upward. Fortunately there had been no wind, and the snow lay as it had fallen, covering the trail so completely that only Larry Kildene himself could have kept it he and his horse yet not impeding his progress with drifts to be tunneled through.
It seemed that she confidently expected the return of the men with her husband, and that the message she had sent by Larry Kildene would surely bring him. The thought excited her greatly, and Amalia found it necessary to keep continual watch lest she wander off down the trail in the direction they had taken, and be lost.
It was a tingling, sharp breeze, and when they returned to the cave, where they went for Harry's lesson in smelting, the old man's cheeks were ruddy. The sun had barely risen when the lesson was over, and they descended for breakfast. Amalia had all ready for them, and greeted Larry from the doorway. "Good morning, Sir Kildene. You start soon.
"But ye mind it came from Katherine first, marryin' wi' Larry Kildene an' rinnin' awa' wi' him," replied Jean. "It was Larry huntit her oot whaur she had been brought for safety." They both sat in silence while Ellen read the letter to the very end. At last, with a long, indrawn sigh, she spoke. "It's no like a lad that could write sic a letter, to perjure his soul. No won'er ye greet, Jean.
"Madam Manovska, Amalia and I are going up the trail a little way, and we may be gone some time, but I'll take good care of her." He smiled reassuringly: "We mustn't waste the sunny days. When Mr. Kildene returns, you also must ride sometimes." "Ah, yes. When? When? It is long very long." "But, maybe, not so long, mamma. Soon now must he come. I think it."
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