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But all, whatever their views, agreed in flouting the young schoolteacher's uninteresting suggestion that perhaps the wolves had not happened, at the moment, to be hungry. As it chanced, however, even this very rational explanation of Kane's was far from the truth. The truth was that the great wolf had profited by his period of captivity in the hands of a masterful man.
The fact is, that education is the true panacea for the ills of this people, and it is the only one. It is the poor man's capital. Freedom can exist only where popular education is fostered. The soldier and the priest have been too long abroad in Mexico. When the schoolteacher's turn shall come, then let tyranny and bigotry beware.
They stared at Buck vaguely. "Mason, Cold Feet ain't got the nerve to shoot a rabbit." "Not in a fight. This was a murder!" "What's the schoolteacher's reason!" "Don't he love Sally Bent? Didn't Quade love her?" He raised his voice. "I'm a big fool for forgetting! Didn't I see him ride over the hill to Quade's place and come back in the evening? Didn't I see it?
The music of the schoolteacher's voice reminded him of the purling of some tiny waterfall in the midst of a mountain wilderness. "I have no will to fight for life. For that sin, forgive me, and for whatever else I have done wrong. Let no knowledge of the crime they are committing come to these men.
Mackenzie only laughed, lightly, happily, in the way of a man who knew the world was his. "You're a poor loser, Earl," he said. "I'm not the loser yet I'm only takin' up my hand to play. There won't be room on this range for you and me, Mackenzie, unless you step back in your schoolteacher's place, and lie down like a little lamb."
They belonged to the Church, and these "Societies" were merely for keeping alive the spiritual flame which had been kindled. The distinguishing feature of John Wesley's work seemed to be the "class" which he organized wherever possible. This was a schoolteacher's idea.
They are much more democratic, far less cocksure, far less haughty, far humbler. The man at the head of the army rose from the ranks. The Prime Minister is a poor Welsh schoolteacher's son, without early education. The man who controls all British shipping began life as a shipping "clark," at ten shillings a week. Yet the Lords and Ladies, too, have shown that they were made of the real stuff.
"There you are," said Lowe, turning to Hartigan, "that's in reason. Why not have a drink all round and then talk it over?" Hartigan was frankly puzzled by the turn of affairs. It seemed to be an offer of peace, after a fashion, but he could not fit Lowe into the scheme of things. He tried to read what was going on behind the schoolteacher's shifty eyes, but the face was a mask.
Not only that, but the head remained poised, hung over the schoolteacher's shoulder. When the blow fell, instead of striking solidly on the trunk of the bush, it crashed futilely through a branch. Riley Sinclair drew closer to watch. It was excusable, perhaps, for a man to be unable to ride or to shoot or to face other men.
Sophia and Louisa Stark went up to the southwest chamber. The closet door was shut. Sophia threw it open, then she looked at Miss Stark. On the pegs hung the schoolteacher's own garments in ordinary array. "I can't see that there is anything wrong," remarked Sophia grimly. Miss Stark strove to speak but she could not. She sank down on the nearest chair. She did not even attempt to defend herself.
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