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Updated: May 7, 2025
"Father's gone out," said the children. Then he slipped home again. He stole a scrap of bread and a drop of brandy from Strom, who was not at home, and threw himself on his bed. As the darkness came on he strolled out and lounged, freezing, about the street corners. He had a vague desire to do something.
He's got a fellow that runs with him Strom Rogers who's almost as good as he is with a gun. They're holy terrors; they've got the cattlemen for two hundred miles around eatin' out of their hands. They're roarin', rippin' devils! "There ain't no man knows how big their gang is seems like half the people in the Lamo country must belong to it.
"Take better cover, Pelle," said Emil; "it's going off directly!" "Where are Olsen and Strom?" said some one suddenly. The men looked at one another bewildered. "They'll be taking their midday sleep," said Emil. "They've been drinking something chronic this morning." "Where are they sleeping?" roared the foreman, and he sprang from his cover. They all had a foreboding, but no one wanted to say.
She was not moved by thought of the famous maxim which Goethe puts into the mouth of Leonore Es bildet ein Talent sich in der Stille, Sich ein Charakter in dem Strom der Welt.
They were silent again; they sat there and gazed at the dead man; there was something apologetic in the bearing of each and all. "Yes, that comes late!" said Strom, with a sigh. Then he felt in the straw and pulled out a bottle. Some of the men still sat there, trying to put into words something that ought perhaps to be said; but then came the doctor, and they drew in their horns.
Pelle forgot his own need and listened, rigid with terror, to this conflict with the powers of evil. Patiently, through his clenched teeth, in a voice broken by weeping, Strom attacked the throng of tiny devils with words from the Bible. "I'll do something to you at last that'll make you tuck your tails between your legs!" he cried, when he had read a little.
It had been a slight incident that had suggested the plan to him merely a glance at Strom Rogers, while the latter, in Lamo, had been watching Deveny. Harlan had seen hatred in Rogers' face, and contempt and jealousy; and he knew that where such passion existed it could be made to grow and flourish by suggestion and by example. And he was determined to furnish the example.
For a while he strolled about amusing himself. "Strom is still man enough to clear up Hell itself!" he said, delighted. Pelle heard him go to bed, and he himself fell asleep. But in the night he awoke; Strom was beating time with his head against the board partition, while he lay tearfully singing "By the waters of Babylon!" But halfway through the psalm the diver stopped and stood up.
Pelle could hear Strom attacking his bread with great bites, and chewing it with a smacking sound; and suddenly in the intervals of mastication, another sound was audible; a curious bellowing, which was interrupted every time the man took a bite; it sounded like a child eating and crying simultaneously.
He addressed the corner of the room in a wheedling, flattering tone. "Come, you sweet, pretty little devil! What a white skin you have Strom would so like to stroke you a little! No, you didn't expect that! Are we getting too clever for you? What? You'd still bite, would you, you devil's brat? There, don't scowl like that!" Strom shut the window with an inward chuckle.
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