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Updated: June 19, 2025
Kinney an indistinct good-night. His hand found the arm of the chair; he collapsed feebly, and sat uttering incoherent sounds. "Papa!" "It brings things back so!" he managed to explain, "This very Fred Kinney's father and young George's father, Wilbur Minafer, used to do just such things when they were at that age and, for that matter, so did George Amberson and I, and all the rest of us!"
Withers and Daphne were on their devoted way like conscientious tourists, though both were deadly weary, to prostrate themselves before the stupendous beauty of the great lone falls at Shoshone. Thane, with Kinney's team, was prosaically bound down the river to examine and report on a placer-mine. But before his business would be finished Mr.
How perfectly impossible it all seems! Why, last night I was taking supper at Kinney's logging-camp, and hating you at every mouthful with all my might. Everything seemed against me, and I was feeling ugly, and flirting like mad with a fool from Montreal: she had come out there from Portland for a frolic with the owners' party. You made me do it, Marcia!" he cried jestingly.
He leaned over and shouted to Lawler: "Kinney's cañon, ain't it?" Lawler nodded. "Well," shouted Shorty; "it's a lulu, ain't it?" For a short time the trail led downward. Then there came a level stretch, smooth, damp. The day was hours old, and the sun was directly overhead. But down in the depths of the cañon it was cool; and a strong wind blew into the faces of the men.
You'll take a receipt for them from a guy named Miguel Lomo, who will be waitin' for you at Panya where you knifed that Oiler last summer. Warden arranged that. "You'll post a dozen men in Kinney's cañon, to drop anyone that follows. There's goin' to be no excuses, or you settle with me afterward. Understand?" Slade's eyes glared with savage triumph and defiance.
And then it had passed into old Kinney's hands. Walking along up the path he felt a serious weakness in his limbs, and he made a pretense of stopping to look at a flowerbed containing nothing but weeds. After seven years of separation he was about to face once more the woman whose life came so near being a part of his- Agnes, now a wife and a mother. How would she look?
The furniture looked like them, in fact. Agnes was outwardly calm, but her real distraction did not escape Mrs. Kinney's hawklike eyes. "Well, I declare if you hain't put the butter on in one o' my blue chainy saucers! Now you know I don't allow that saucer to be took down by nobody. I don't see what's got into yeh. Anybody'd s'pose you never see any comp'ny b'fore-wouldn't they, Pa?"
So that it insensibly came to pass that the daily life of the little household was really an intellectual one, and Elder Kinney's original and vigorous mind expanded fast in the congenial atmosphere. Yet he lost none of his old quaintness and simplicity of phrase, none of his fervor.
"Maybe, after I've made my pile." Kinney's eyes wandered about the room, and took in its evidences of prosperity, with simple, unenvious admiration; he ended with a furtive glimpse of Marcia, who seemed to be a climax of good luck, too dazzling for contemplation; he withdrew his glance from her as if hurt by her splendor, and became serious.
And Mis' Kinney, ef ye'll excuse my makin' so bold, I'll tell ye jest what Elder Williams said about ye: sez he, It's my opinion that ef there was ever a woman born thet was jest cut out for a minister to a congregation, it's that Elder's wife o' your'n; and sez we to him 'Thet's jest what the hull town thinks, sir, and it's our opinion that ef we should try to settle anythin' in the shape of a man in this parish, there wouldn't be anythin' but empty pews for him to preach to, for the people'd all be gone up to Mis' Kinney's."
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