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Updated: June 2, 2025
I hurried by Perrin and through the cool, quiet hall to the broad door that opened into the big room at the back of the house, which was Vic's laboratory. "Vic! Hope!" I pounded as hard as I could, shouting their names. There was no response. "Is there another key, Perrin?" I snapped. "No, sir; none that I know of. The master was mighty fussy about his workroom."
First the wolf-dog pricked his ears and turned towards the door, the pudgy fist closed convulsively over Vic's thumb, and then his rescuer stood in the entrance. "Hello, partner," called Vic. "I got company, you see. The door blew open and I asked your little girl in." "I told you not to come here," said the other. Vic felt the child tremble, but there was no burst of excuses.
The upper lips of the animal twitched dangerously back and the sound came from the very depths of his body. It made the flesh crawl along Vic's back; one rip of those great teeth could tear a man's throat open. The child thudded her heels against the ribs of Bart again. "Giddap!" she cried. The wolf-dog shuddered but would not budge an inch. "Naughty Bart!" She slipped off to the floor.
But she didn't, though no girl under Vic's age at least would think of cutting in like that with a stranger, at home. Mohunsleigh was delighted to be spoken to by her, though, one could see. His eyes brightened up, and he smiled, looking straight at her, as if she were a new and absolutely desirable kind of rifle. "Used to be in the army.
The Colorado was shoal, having an average autumnal depth of four feet at La Paz. Clary secured two poles from the river débris lodged on the bar, one for Frank and one for himself. Henry sat on the box in the middle, holding his companions' guns across his lap with one hand, and grasping Vic's collar with the other. The well-filled game-bags lay between his feet.
I hate the very thought of a ranch, Vic Stevenson, and you know I do. But that doesn't matter a particle. Dad " "I told you dad was crazy!" Vic's tone was too violent for grief. His young ambitions were in jeopardy, and even his dad's death must look unimportant alongside the greater catastrophe that threatened.
It was with tiger-like step and instinct, too, that the young man went leaping up the dark, frost-coated glen. About the mouth of the cave the blackness was appalling. It seemed a place apart, cursed with the frown of Nature. Yet in the April time, the sweetest moments of Vic's young life had been spent in this very spot that now showed all the difference between Love and Hate.
Pennypoker moving to and fro about the house, and now and again Vic's baby voice fell upon her ears; but, for the most part, the house was very still. At length she heard some one calling her name in a low voice. Throwing aside her book, she went to the door and listened intently, till she heard the call repeated. This time it was evident that the sound came from outside the window.
'And if he had money'." Vic's face was triumphant. "It has come at last the money. And what of Elinor?" The sacred memories of brief fleeting moments with her told him "what of Elinor." "The barriers are down now. It is a glorious old world. I must hunt up Trench and then "
She had been on a visit to her mother in another village, which accounted for Vic's thinking she had run away. They occupied the hut of my late neighbour, and before many days had gone they were all bad with fever. It was easy to see that the woman hated me, and imagined I was the cause of her having to come and live in these lonely and unhealthy mountains.
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