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Updated: June 24, 2025
Bull laughed and his laugh was infectious. The girl was smiling her delight. "That's so. I need to cross the Atlantic. I wasn't going till the Myra's next trip. I'll go to-morrow an' stop over in Quebec to see your people. It just means hurrying my choreman packing my stuff while I show you around to-morrow.
If she was quite exasperated with the stupidity of Yakub, the dvornik, she pretended to curse him in a phrase of her own invention, a mixture of Hebrew and Russian, which, translated, said, "Mayst thou have gold and silver in thy bosom"; but to the choreman, who was not a linguist, the mongrel phrase conveyed a sense of his delinquency.
Their own optimism had given way before the protracted delay. Tim Gleichen and Peter Furrers came first, Andy, the choreman, brought up the rear. "We've been thinking," said Tim, feeling it necessary to explain the process which had brought them to a certain conclusion, "that maybe we might just drive down the trail to see if we can see anything of him, Mrs. Malling.
"Joe," he said, "I want to shake hands with you and call you my friend." The choreman held back for a moment in some confusion. Then, as though moved by sudden impulse, he gripped the hand so cordially offered. "But I ain't done yet," he said a moment later. He had no wish to advertise his own good deeds. He was pleading for another. Some one who could not plead for herself.
And the girl was satisfied. The day wore on, and night brought no fresh anxiety. Diane was at her post, Joe was alert, and though no one had heard of Arizona's return, twice, in the small hours, the choreman heard a footfall outside his lean-to, and he made a shrewd guess as to whose it was. The second and third day passed satisfactorily, but still Tresler displayed no sign of life.
He remained for some minutes seated on the top of the corral fence, but the mosquitoes were too thick, and drove him to further wanderings. Just as he was about to move away, he saw the door of the foreman's hut open, and in the light that shone behind, the small figure of the choreman, Joe Nelson, come out. Then the light was shut out as the great figure of Jake blocked the doorway.
He had to pass round the shed where Joe slept. This was an addition to the kitchen, and quite shut off from the house. He groped his way along the wall of it till he came to the door, which stood open. He was half inclined to go in and rouse the little choreman. He felt that he would like to tell his old friend of his luck, his happiness.
Joe Nelson, the choreman, is my helper and does all the heavy work. He's quite a character." "Yes, I know. I've met him," observed Tresler, dryly. "Ah! Try that ham. I don't know about the cold pie, it may be tough. Yes, old Joe is an Englishman; at least, he was, but he's quite Americanized now. He spent forty years in Texas. He's really an educated man. Owned a nice ranch and got burned out.
She was as kind to the colored choreman as to the minister's wife, smiling and good-humored with every one. But she had a keen sense of differences. Unerringly she reached out her hands to the "best" as she understood the best, the men and women who were "nice," who were pleasant to know. And Mrs.
Then Tresler told him what he had seen at the edge of the pinewoods, and the choreman listened with careful attention. At the end of his story Tresler added "You see, it's probably nothing. Of course, I know nothing as yet of prairie ways and doings. No doubt it can be explained.
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