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Updated: June 2, 2025
One day a small skinny brown dog somehow managed to climb up the bamboo step into my hut during Vic's temporary absence, and I suddenly awoke to find it helping itself to the contents of a plate that Vic had placed by my side. I was far too ill to do more than frighten it away. It stopped suddenly and, after spinning round a few times yelping, it turned over on its back.
Vic swept both arms about Hope and me, holding us in a close embrace, so that we all stood within the triangle formed by the three bits of black rock. I glanced down at my watch. It lacked but a few seconds of the moment when the machine back in Vic's laboratory would function provided my watch was correct, and the equipment worked according to schedule.
Vic's face was ashy, for his anger matched his love, and both were parallel to his wonderful physique and endurance. In his fury, the temptation to throttle the man who had wronged him was gaining the mastery. "Vic, oh, Vic, they're waiting for you. Turn on! Don't hurt him, Vic." Bug Buler's pleading little voice broke the momentary stillness.
Vic's hand fell nerveless, and Burgess staggered back. "Was n't you dood to Vic? He would n't hurted you. He never hurted me." The innocent face and gentle words held a strange power over each passion-fired man before him. Five minutes later, Vic Burleigh walked across the gridiron with full credentials for his place on the team.
One little, blanketed figure ran out of the darkness, caught Vic's face between her two palms, nestled her cheek against it, and with a cheerful "good-night," disappeared as suddenly as she had come. I took Vic in my lap as I sat on the ground, and by the light of a blazing pine-knot proceeded to examine her condition.
It was a cold-blooded thing to say, but Burgess, though filled with jealousy, was conscientious now in his belief that Burleigh was really a low grade fellow, deserving no leniency nor recognition. "But you haven't given me any standing yet, the coach says." Vic's voice was dead calm. "I have no standing to give you. You are below grade." Vic's eyes blazed. "You dog!" was all he could say.
Even then I thought it was shamming, but on going up to it I found it was dead, with only one No. 8 shot in its spleen. On Vic's return he was much alarmed, as he said the dog belonged to the Negrito chief, who was very fond of it, and would be very angry with me if he knew. So we hid the body in the middle of a clump of bamboo about a quarter of a mile away from the hut.
Those are bonds that you've got your hand on and the checks make up the sum total." By an instinctive movement she snatched her fingers away; but, recovering herself, she took the package deliberately into her hands and stood holding it. "I've been explaining to Davenant," Guion said, in a muffled voice, "that things aren't quite so hopeless as they seem. If we ever come into Aunt Vic's money "
"I know it now," said Christie, rocking lazily to and fro, with a face almost as tranquil as little Vic's, lying half asleep in her lap. "Glad to hear it, my dear. As I was goin' on to say, when Saturday come, a tremenjus storm set in, and it rained guns all day.
The loud, cheerful tone fell away to a confidential murmur, Daniels leaned closer, with a smile of prospective humor, but the words which came to Gregg were: "Partner, if I was you I'd get up and git and I wouldn't stop till I put a hell of a long ways between me and this cabin!" It spoke well of Vic's nerve that no start betrayed him.
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