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Updated: June 15, 2025
"Anyway, the canoe's ready and the lake all rippling, and I've one of the new flight-hook spoons." Miss Deringham, who saw the spume upon the bit and the horse's whitened sides, smiled graciously, and decided that Nellie Townshead's message could very well wait until the evening. "I will be ready in about five minutes," she said.
Meanwhile Alton entered the store, where the man who kept it pointed to a litter of packages strewn about the floor and sundry bags upon the counter. "That's Townshead's lot, and those are Thomson's things," he said, and turned aside to listen to a rancher who came in smiling. Alton took up a big cotton bag marked Townshead, tossed it aloft and caught it, and then shook his head dubiously.
"It's a long way to Townshead's. Still, I think we can make it out," he said. Alton laughed. "We have got to. There's not generally too much to eat at that house, and they'll want the things," he said.
One arm of it dipped again, and wound through a deep sheltered hollow to the Somasco ranch, the other ran straight along the hillside to Townshead's dwelling. The hillside was also steep, the beasts were tired, and the trail was very bad. Seaforth glanced at his comrade when they stopped a moment, and saw him dimly, tugging at the Cayuse's bridle, through the snow.
Miss Deringham was almost too serene, and, he fancied, might have stepped out of a picture. Miss Townshead's cheeks were crimson, her skirt was rent, and, though she had evidently found opportunity to effect some alteration, loose wisps of hair still hung about her shoulders.
Still Alton said nothing, but floundered on, apparently as cheerfully as though he would be well paid for the risk he ran, until he crawled down into the sliding whiteness, when a hide strip burst and some of Townshead's packages were scattered about the face of a precipitous declivity.
She could only see that Miss Townshead's head was bent lower over the paper than it had been, but she had a suspicion as to what the girl was feeling. It was also partly, but not more than partly justified, for Nellie Townshead was writing mechanically just then, though now and then she drove the pencil somewhat viciously into the paper when the hasty words grew faster.
He was, however, unintelligible, and I fancy somebody had been giving him whisky." "Mounted?" said Alton. "What kind of horse?" Miss Deringham considered for a moment, and then possibly deciding that Alton would have no difficulty in ascertaining elsewhere, told him. "Tom!" he said grimly. "Well, I'll talk to him. You'll take Miss Deringham home, Charley, and then come on to Townshead's after me."
Margery was apparently busy. Alice Deringham did not like Mrs. Margery, and had reason to believe the latter returned the feeling, though she had noticed that the somewhat grim old lady had a smile that was almost gentle for rancher Townshead's daughter. Presently the rattle of plates also ceased, and the girl found the silence exasperating.
It was evident that he had put a stern restraint upon himself, but the girl knew that he would listen. "I have a confession to make," she said quietly. "You will remember the sale of Townshead's ranch, but you do not know I kept back the message Miss Townshead sent you." Alton laughed a little. "Nothing would convince me of it. The man who should have brought it was not sober. He told me himself."
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