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Updated: May 2, 2025
The words seemed to anger the leader. "Shuck off that coat an' shirt!" was his order. Westerfelt did not move. "I'm glad to say I'm not afraid of you," he said. "If you have got human hearts in you, though, you'll kill me, and not let me live after the degradation you are going to inflict. I know who's led you to this.
All three of them were now huddled behind the wagon. "Hello!" answered Westerfelt, drawing rein; "I'm lookin' for an iron gray, flea-bitten horse that strayed away from the livery-stable this morning; have you fellows seen anything of him?" "No, I hain't." This in a dogged tone from a slouched hat just above a whiskey barrel. There was a pause.
"What's the matter?" Mrs. Floyd was kneading dough in a great wooden tray, and she looked at Harriet over her shoulder. "Nothing." "I know there is." Mrs. Floyd turned and began rubbing the dough from her fingers as a woman puts on a kid glove. "Mr. Westerfelt has asked me to drive with him after dinner," said the girl. "That's all." "Harriet!" Mrs.
"Let's go on," said the other Officer to his companion. "We are on the right road; he's seed 'em ur he'd a-denied it. Let's not lose time." "I'm with you," was the reply; then to Westerfelt: "You are right, you hain't on the witness-stand, but ef we wanted to we could mighty easy arrest you on suspicion and march you back to jail to be questioned by the inspectors."
When Westerfelt awoke it was early dawn. The outlines of the room and the different objects in it were indistinct. At the foot of his bed he noticed something which resembled a heap of clothing on a chair. He looked at it steadily, wondering if it could be part of the strange dreams which had beset him in sleep. As the room gradually became lighter, he saw that it was a woman. Mrs.
"Well, I didn't see how he could," said Mrs. Floyd. "I didn't, really." "She hasn't said she will forgive me for thinking she was in love with Wambush, and making such a fool of myself on account of the mistake," said Westerfelt. "I wish you'd help me out, Mrs. Floyd."
He put his foot on a fallen log, and cleared his throat. He looked up at the sky and slowly caressed his chin with his fingers, as Westerfelt had once seen him do in making a speech before the justice of the peace.
"You think, then, Luke," said Westerfelt, "that a good woman a real good woman could love twice in in a short space of time?" "Gewhillikins! What a question; they kin love a hundred times before you kin say Jack Robinson with yore mouth open. When you git married, John, you must make up your mind that yo're marryin' fer some'n else besides dern foolishness.
Wash, heer, never did have much more sense 'n a chinch, nohow." "What can I do for you, Mr. Hunter?" asked the man addressed, coming out. There was a decidedly sheepish look in the old man's face, and he swung the halter of the horse awkwardly to and fro. "Well, you see, it's jest this way, Westerfelt," he began, with an effort.
The act and its accompanying smile reminded Westerfelt of the deception the old lady had played on Bates, and that added weight to the vague convictions once more alive in his brain. Mrs. Floyd's smile implied a certain confidence in his credulity and pliability that was galling to his proud spirit.
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