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Updated: June 24, 2025
It didn't want any man elected President who would drive the South into secession. No use to let iron drive out cotton. Let us have both cotton and iron. We went out to walk through the city. Yarnell was amazed at the growth of Chicago. We wandered over to the Wigwam where the convention was to be held. It was a huge frame structure, seating ten thousand people.
He stood with us for a moment, and then was buttonholed and taken away. We returned to the streets to watch the marchers. Yarnell was good enough to get tickets for Abigail, Aldington, and me, asking us with a half smile not to cheer for any one unless we cheered for Seward. It was in the air that Seward would be nominated. Greeley said so, but he was really fighting Seward.
The boast of the Boones was that they never forgot an injury. They might wait many years for the chance, but in the end they paid their debts. Twenty years after the war Sugden Boone shot down Colonel Yarnell as he was hitching his horse in front of the courthouse at Nemo.
We had been about three weeks on the water. We were nearing the harbor of New York. Yarnell was a man of about thirty. He seemed very mature to me. In fact he was quite a man of the world. I had told him my destination, and asked him how best to reach it. He had given me some information, but it was not wholly clear.
It was two weeks before he reappeared on the mesa, walking wearily like a man under a load. "I reckon there's something wrong, ma'am. I come out to see ef yer man 'ud write me a letter. I hadn't been long in Plattsville, but I worked a spell fer a man named Yarnell; like enough he'd look it up a little. I ain't much at writin', an' I'd want it all writ out careful like, you know."
How simple things are at the end of a journey and a daily restlessness to arrive! My valise was taken to my room. I went with the negro porter. I looked from my window out upon Broadway. The porter departed. The door was closed. My journey to New York was over. I was alone. I began to wish for Yarnell, wish to be back upon the boat.
Steve had a fleeting thought that the man was listening; also that he was covering the fact with a manner of elaborate carelessness. "Want I should start right away?" "Yep. Can you get back by to-morrow night?" "I reckon. Has Yarnell got 'em rounded up?" asked Yeager. "He telephoned me this morning they were ready."
Dad burn yore ornery hide, I ain't see you long enough for a good talk in a coon's age." Melissy seized on her father joyfully as an interposition of Providence. "Father, this is Miss Yarnell, the young lady I told you about." The ranchman buried her little hand in his big paw. "Right glad to meet up with you, Miss Yarnell. How do you like Arizona by this time?
In his pocket was a letter from the sheriff at Nemo, Arkansas, stating that his county was well rid of Shep Boone and that the universal opinion was that neither Bellamy nor young Yarnell had been to blame for the outcome of the difficulty. Unless there came to him an active demand for the return of Bellamy he intended to let sleeping dogs lie. No such demand came.
Yarnell constantly proclaimed that, until the Lord entered her heart to absolutely sanctify it, she was certain to be miserable, unless she became a hopelessly hardened sinner. Unhappy the child surely was. Her conscience was a sensitive one; it seemed ever to chide, and often to condemn.
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