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Updated: June 18, 2025
Stone's, which like so many of his sayings had travelled forth to beat the air, might have seemed, even "in those days," not altogether without meaning to anyone who looked into the room of Mr. Joshua Creed in Hound Street. This aged butler lay in bed waiting for the inevitable striking of a small alarum clock placed in the very centre of his mantelpiece.
I know not what was the occasion, but I was not so well satisfied to lie on shore as the rest; and the boat lying at an anchor about a stone's cast from the land, with two men in her to take care of her, I made one of them come on shore, and getting some boughs of trees to cover us also in the boat, I spread the sail on the bottom of the boat, and lay on board, under the cover of the branches of the trees, all night.
"Otherwise, probably, I shouldn't be here, should I?" She forgot all about him, and an irresistible desire to tease, at the sight of the sea which, a stone's throw from the house, pounded on the yellow sweep of sand and swooped up in large half circles of glistening water. "I've a jolly good mind to have another dip before changing. What do you say?"
Then his glance fell on the grey gown of Miss Stone as it fell along the rug at her feet, and he bowed with gracious appeal for permission. "Like the dress of madame," he said "but warmer, like the sun and blue." A low colour crept up into the soft line of Miss Stone's cheek and rested there. She sat watching the two with slightly puzzled eyes.
"His father died yonder, within a stone's throw of us, when the son was but a year and a half old. He knew no other father than mine, who watched over the family as if it had been his own. This very house in which I live was as much his home as it was mine.
The old gentleman understood Stone's Landing a good deal better than he would have done after an hour's talk with either of it's expectant proprietors. At this moment, and while Philip was trying to frame a question that he found it exceedingly difficult to put into words, the door opened quietly, and Ruth entered.
From Roy Stone's brief description of the Don's family, he guessed at the identities of the two women. While he stood irresolute, the girl recovered from her fright. Her dark eyes flashed, and she commanded him in an imperious tone to lower his weapon. "Not till you promise me not to shout, Miss," Jack said. "Very well," said the girl. "But who are you? You cannot escape.
Day was breaking as the riders, dismounting and leaving their horses on the creek bottom, crept noiselessly, under Stone's guidance, up a wash to the bench on which Henry's cabin stood. Hiding just below a shallow bank at the head of a draw, they lay awaiting developments. Where Stone had posted them they commanded the cabin perfectly.
And yes there were also scars on the little back from the cruel touch of The Stone's switch. But Black Bull poor Black Bull! The child spoke of him with loving pity. "I am sorry for him," she said. "He has only his dog to make him happy." "Would you like to live with me?" asked Sweet Grass, when the story was finished. "Oh-h!" The little girl drew a long sigh of wonder and delight.
You see, I've been all over it, at Mr. Stone's orders, and I ree'lize what a nice lady she is. I don't have to see her, to understand her tastes and her 'complishments. Why, jest the books on her centre tables and the records for her phonograph spell her out for me, in words of one syllable. And, though I'm hunting for her, it isn't with a solid hunch that's she's the knife-sticker.
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