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Updated: June 14, 2025
She did not once experience the drear loneliness that had sat on her like a dead weight the last month before she turned her back on Granville and its unhappy associations. For one thing, Bill Wagstaff kept her intellectually on the jump. He was always precipitating an argument or discussion of some sort, in which she invariably came off second best.
Some hundred odd souls were gathered there, where the stern-wheel steamers that ply the turgid Skeena reach the head of navigation. A land-recording office and a mining recorder Hazleton boasted as proof of its civic importance. The mining recorder, who combined in himself many capacities besides his governmental function, undertook to put through Bill's land deal. He knew Bill Wagstaff.
At that moment, Captain Crook, who had followed them for several hours, charged into the town with a troop of cavalry. Hardly a show of resistance was made; Penruddock, Grove, and Jones, three of the leaders, with some fifty others, were made prisoners; the rest, of whom Wagstaff had the good fortune to be one, aided by the darkness of the night, effected their escape.
She was learning that Bill Wagstaff, for all his gentleness and patience with her, was a persistent mortal. "Well, I do," he continued, unperturbed. "Lots of 'em. But mostly around one thing a woman a dream woman because I never saw one that seemed to fit in until I ran across you." "Mr. Wagstaff," Hazel pleaded, "won't you please stop talking like that? It isn't it isn't "
"All the sabe," said the Prince, "id is a splid idfididive." Clarence pointed silently to the door. "And you doe id is," persisted the Prince. "And id's spoiled your big sbeech. Id " "Come on, can't you," interrupted Scout-Master Wagstaff. "I ab cubbing, aren't I? I was odly saying " "I'll give you such a whack over the shin with this hockey-stick in a minute!" said the Scout-Master warningly.
After that they divided the household duties, and Hazel forgot that she had vowed to make Bill Wagstaff wait on her hand and foot as the only penalty she could inflict for his misdeeds. It seemed petty when she considered the matter, and there was nothing petty about Hazel Weir. If the chance ever offered, she would make him suffer, but in the meantime there was no use in being childish.
She had the word of Loraine Marsh and Jack Barrow that they were genuinely sorry for having been carried away by appearances. And she could nail her colors to the mast if she came home the wife of a man like Bill Wagstaff, who could wrest a fortune from the wilderness in a briefer span of time than it took most men to make current expenses.
Wagstaff drawled the exclamation out in a rising crescendo of astonishment. Then he laid his gun down across a roll of bedding, and stood looking at her in speechless wonder. "For the love of Mike!" Roaring Bill said again. "What are you doing wandering around in the woods at night? Good Lord! Your teeth are chattering. Sit down here and get warm. It is sort of chilly."
Whips Four men in Broad Street Office. Slugs Another on Change. His Mighty Fists Subdue Society's Finest. Finally Lands in Jail. The body of the article Hazel read in what a sob sister would describe as a state of mingled emotions. William Wagstaff is a mining gentleman from the northern wilds of British Columbia. He is a big man, a natural-born fighter.
He descended now and then to lower disquisitions: and by a serious display of the beauties of "Chevy Chase" exposed himself to the ridicule of Wagstaff, who bestowed a like pompous character on Tom Thumb; and to the contempt of Dennis, who, considering the fundamental position of his criticism, that "Chevy Chase" pleases, and ought to please, because it is natural, observes; "that there is a way of deviating from nature, by bombast or tumour, which soars above nature, and enlarges images beyond their real bulk; by affectation, which forsakes nature in quest of something unsuitable; and by imbecility, which degrades nature by faintness and diminution, by obscuring its appearances, and weakening its effects."
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