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Updated: May 1, 2025
A swooning sickness came over Mary Fortune as she sat, waiting stonily, at her desk; but when McBain came back and sat down beside her she typed on, automatically, as he spoke. Then she woke at last, as if from a dream, to hear his harsh, discordant voice; and a sudden resentment, a fierce, passionate hatred, swept over her as he shouted in her ear.
Once it had left her hands for the close guardianship of that scarlet tablet streaked against the roadside wall she would feel more at ease. As she turned the last bend of the stairs she came upon an agitated little group of people clustering round Sandy McBain, who had apparently only recently arrived. Her hand tightened on the banister. Why had everyone collected in the hall?
If it wasn't for that gun, where'd the Old Juan be to-day?" "Well, where is it?" she asked and smiled. "Why " "Why, you lost it," she supplied. "And I won it," she added. "It stands in my name to-day." "Yes, but Andrew McBain " "Was he any smarter than Stoddard? Well, I didn't need any gun." "Yes, but look who you are!" observed Rimrock sarcastically and balanced the old gun in his hand.
Yes, it is lovely weather, but I came here on a matter of business. We've had our difficulties, Mr. Apex McBain, but all that is in the past. What I came to say is: I've got my eye on you and I don't want you out at my mine. Those claims are my property and, I give you fair notice, if you trespass on my ground you'll get shot.
"What have I to gain by robbing the young lady of her inheritance? I'd be more likely to lose by it than gain." "Lose by it? Why?" "That is my affair," Asgill answered. And he hummed: They tried put the comether on Judy McBain: One, two, three, one, two, three! Cotter and crowder and Paddy O'Hea; For who but she's owner of Ballymacshane?
There was a moment of confusion and then, as McBain turned to run, the bang of Rimrock's gun. Andrew McBain went down, falling forward on his face, and as Rimrock whirled on the startled gunmen they shot blindly and broke for cover. The fight had got beyond them, their hearts were not in it and they knew that McBain was dead.
Bryant," he apologized. "I just didn't recognize you in the darkness. Guess I thought you were some tough from the saloon. That was your brother ahead?" Fyles's calm, clean-cut features were in strong contrast to his subordinate's. He was smiling slightly, too. Sergeant McBain was wholly grim. Bill glanced from one to the other.
Sergeant McBain rapped out his formula without regard for the letter of it. Then, while one of the troopers placed handcuffs upon the prisoner's wrists, he turned to those at the canoe. "How many kegs?" he demanded. For a moment there was no reply. Holy Dick sniggered. McBain glared furiously, and his impatience rose. "How many?" he cried again, more sharply.
Met a body of representative men to lunch, amongst them Sir James McBain, President of the Upper Chamber, Mr. Deakin, an ex-Cabinet Minister, a very nice fellow indeed, a man who appears to me to have more capacity than any one I have yet met in the Colonies.
That voice, and he knew it, belonged to Andrew McBain, the man that stole mines for a living. He paused at the door where Mary Fortune had her sign, then suddenly forced his way in. Without thinking, impulsively, he had moved towards that voice as a man follows some irresistible call. He opened the door and stood blinking in the doorway, his hand on the pistol at his side.
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