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Ted Slavin's my name, and I live in Stanhope. Gimme a ride, mister, if you're goin' that way, won't you?" Again the two men talked together, while Ted watched them out of the corner of his eye. He might even have tried to run but the fact that his hands were fastened together with that steel chain prevented such a thing.
While he could not be said to find satisfaction in Slavin's impending affliction, he could hardly hide his complacency in the promptness of Providence in vindicating his theory of retribution. But Geordie's complacency was somewhat rudely shocked by Mr. Craig's answer to his theory one day.
I did not put her to bed in case I should need to go, and I may not leave her. We entered the church by the back door, and saw at once that even yet the battle might easily be lost. Some miners had just come from Slavin's, evidently bent on breaking up the meeting, in revenge for the collapse of the dance, which Slavin was unable to enjoy, much less direct.
It was the second day after the funeral that Geordie and I were walking towards Slavin's. There was a great shout of laughter as we drew near. Geordie stopped short, and saying, 'We'll juist gang in a meenute, passed through the crowd and up to the bar. 'Michael Slavin, began Geordie, and the men stared in dead, silence, with their glasses in their hands.
Slavin's anxiety and fear were not relieved much by the reports the men brought him from time to time of Geordie's ominous forebodings; for Geordie had no doubt but that the Avenger of Blood was hot upon Slavin's trail; and as the sickness grew, he became confirmed in this conviction.
Yorke bent down and, drawing back a fold of the blanket, exposed two still white faces. In the centre of Hornsby's forehead all beheld Gully's terrible sign-manual. Wade had been shot through the throat. "Hornsby!" gasped Yorke brokenly, "poor old Gus Hornsby!" . . . He turned a tired, drawn face up to Slavin's. "He was with us in the Yukon, Burke.
the same old miserable business the world's fed up with. Since then seems I've kind of made a mess of things. Burke Slavin's about right his estimate of me." He sighed with bitter, gloomy retrospection. "I've always had a queer, intolerant sort of temperament. Bold and game as Sherman, or Paul Jones, but as ruthless as Graham of Claverhouse.
At the mouth of the shaft lay three men dead. One was Lewis Mavor. He had gone down to superintend the running of a new drift; the two men, half drunk with Slavin's whisky, set off a shot prematurely, to their own and Mavor's destruction. They were badly burned, but his face was untouched. A miner was sponging off the bloody froth oozing from his lips.
The horror in Slavin's eyes had changed to sullenness, but he nodded silently. "How do you know?" There was no reply, although the thick lips appeared to move. "Answer me, you red sneak! Do you think I am here to be played with? Answer!" Slavin gulped down something which seemed threatening to choke him, but he durst not lift a hand to wipe the sweat from his face.
Into Redmond's mind sunk into a deep oblivion of dreamy, chaotic thought came again Slavin's words: "Shtudy thim picthures, bhoy! an', by an' large ye have th' man himsilf" Soon, too, he slept; and into his fitful slumbers drifted a ridiculously disturbing dream.
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