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Updated: June 24, 2025
The old man had slouched closer and had settled himself beside his son, his hand on the outcast's knee. Thayor's voice broke the silence. "Where are these men you ran across, Dinsmore?" he asked abruptly, a ring of determination in his voice. "'Bout eight mile from here, I figger it in a holler southeast of Alder Swamp," answered the hide-out, returning to a sense of his surroundings.
No pulpit eloquence was ever so moving and so beautiful as this outcast's picture of the first Mormon pilgrimage across the plains, struggling sorrowfully onward to the land of its banishment and marking its desolate way with graves and watering it with tears.
Though Carl afterward remembered not one word of what Bone Stillman said, it is possible that the outcast's treatment of him as a grown-up friend was one of the most powerful of the intangible influences which were to push him toward the great world outside of Joralemon.
Beaufort's arm fell to his side: kneeling before him, and by the outcast's side, was his own young daughter; she had crept into the room unobserved, when her father entered.
One was Enid Vane's sweet childish face, as she thrust her shilling with the hole in it into the little outcast's hand. Cynthia had carefully hidden the coin away; she was resolved never to spend it.
He took the outcast's arm, walked him down to Martin's restaurant, seated him at a marble table, placed the bill of fare before him, and said: "Order what you want, friend. Charge it to me, Mr. Martin." "All right, Mr. Blucher," said Martin.
His lack of hesitancy was born of his manly view of the outcast's blamelessness, of her dire necessity for help, and of a premonition that Ruth Levice would be as free from the artificiality of conventional surface modesty as was he, through the earnestness of the undertaking. There is something very sweet to a woman in being singled out by a man for some ennobling virtue.
It would be well that some one should identify the dead man, and establish the fact of Philip Sheldon's decease. Valentine was able to do this unaided. He attended the inquest, and made arrangements for the outcast's decent burial; and in due course he gave Mrs. Sheldon notice of her freedom. Beyond that nameless grave whose fancy shall dare follow Philip Sheldon? He died and made no sign.
The moving shadow settled itself upon the ceiling in a huge silhouette, distinctly traceable. There was no doubting it was Phil's dear head that threw the shadow, himself invisible, so near, so far. The foolish outcast's heart ached bitterly, and he stretched both hands towards the shadow, not knowing that he moved. 'Shall I venture, sir? asked Mr.
The individual who refused to bow his head to the social yoke became a vagabond, an outcast, an excommunicate. In view of the fierceness of the struggle for food and the attitude toward the stranger among all primitives, the outcast's life chances were unenviable. It was preferable to adapt one's self to the social order.
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