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Updated: June 13, 2025
Peace glanced apprehensively at the pale face, which looked unusually stern and severe, and said, "That is a sure-enough receipt, but if you don't b'lieve it, you can ask Mr. Hardman about it." "I am not doubting your story in the least," answered the big sister, smiling in spite of herself, "but I want to talk to you, dear."
"Mother, she ran right into my arms.... We just met, Mother, and the old love leaped." "Mercy, what a terrible situation for you both, especially for Lucy.... Pan, what can you do?" "Mother, I don't know, I can't think. It's too sudden. But I'll never let her marry Dick Hardman. Why, only last night I saw a painted little hussy hanging over him.
"Hardman, you say you you married my this girl?" rasped out Pan, choking over his words as if they were poison, unable to speak of Lucy as he had thought of her all his life. "Yes I married her." "Who married you?" "A parson from Salt Lake. Matthews got him here." "Ah-uh! Matthews. How did you force her?" "I swear to God she was willing," went on Hardman. "Her father wanted her to." "What?
The wind blew it over where I killed Matthews. Funny! ... And Louise, I'm going to kill Dick Hardman, too." "Like hell you are!" she hissed, and leaped swiftly to snatch something from under the pillow. Pan started back, thinking that she meant to attack him. How tigerishly she bounded! Her white arm swept aside red curtains. They hid a shallow closet. It seemed her white shape flashed in and out.
The scene of the former reception was to be enacted over again, but with additional splendour. The time came, and with it the long-lost son. Mrs Hardman met him on the hall steps, and clasped him in her arms with a fondness she had never evinced before. But he was impatient. There was another being whom he longed to fold in his arms.
"Well, what I'm getting at is this: if it hadn't been for me you'd never got to this place. You're here, and now you must look out for yourself; I won't have you an hour longer in the party; we part; get away as soon as you can!" Hardman looked savagely at the old miner, as if suspecting he had not heard aright. But a moment's reflection convinced him there was no mistake.
She was wiping her face with most expressive disgust. "Pan you go right off and thrash Dick Hardman," she cried, passionately. "Lucy! What's he done?" queried Pan, after a sudden sense of inward shock. "He's always worrying me when you're not around. I never told 'cause I knew you'd fight.... But now he's done it. He grabbed me and kissed me! Before all the boys!"
No doubt Jard Hardman, who backed the Yellow Mine, was also behind the jail. At least Matthews pocketed the ill-gotten gains from offenders of the peace as constituted by himself. Pan felt that now for the first time in his life he had a mighty incentive, something tremendous and calling, to bring out that spirit of fire common to the daredevils of the range.
"You dirty-mouthed cur," said Pan. "Get up, and if you've got a gun throw it." Hardman laboriously got to his feet. The breath had been partly knocked out of him. Baleful eyes rolled at Pan. Instinctive wrath, however, had been given a setback. Hardman had been forced to think of something beside the frustration of his imperious will. "I'm not packing my gun," he panted, heavily.
Then, when all was ready for the drive Purcell sent for me. Ask him yourself." Pan did not answer to the suggestion. "Mac, what do you say to that?" he queried, sharply, but he never took his eyes off Purcell. "Hardman, you're a liar!" roared Mac New, sonorously. If ever Pan heard menace in a voice, it was then. "Take it back!" went on the outlaw, now with a hiss. "Square me with Panhandle Smith!"
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