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Updated: June 18, 2025
Levine talk over. Understand?" sharply. "Yes, Daddy," murmured Lydia, flushing painfully. "You don't have to jaw the child that way, Amos." Levine's voice was impatient. "Just explain things to her. Why do you want to humiliate her?" Amos gave a short laugh. "Takes a bachelor to bring up kids. Run along to bed, Lydia." "Lydia's not a kid.
That a white life extinguished for a tribe destroyed might not be full compensation in the eyes of that Larger Justice which, after all, rules the Universe, did not seriously influence the reaction of public opinion toward thinking better of Lake City. And John Levine, known in life as an Indian Graft politician, became in his death a Statesman of far vision. Levine's will was not found at first.
Under the McDuff case, it had been held by the courts that he had parted with his money for an illegal and dishonest purpose to wit, in an attempt to win money from another who was wagering his own money in good faith and the rogue who had seduced his conscience and slit his purse went free. This was Levine's favorite field of operations. But his friend went him one better.
Then Amos said, "John, why don't you go to Congress? Not to-day, or to-morrow, but maybe four or five years from now." Levine looked at Amos curiously. The two men were about the same age. Levine's brown face had a foreign look about it, the gift of a Canadian French grandfather.
Charlie's mouth twisted in a sneer. "Why don't they work? Why don't the whites give 'em a chance? Dirty thieves, prowling round like timber wolves. Ask Dave Marshall. Ask that gumshoeing crook of a Levine. Don't ask me." "Levine's not a crook," shouted Lydia. "He's my friend." The sneer left Charlie's face and he laughed. "Your friend is he, little sunfish!" "Yes," said Lydia, furiously.
After a moment, Levine said again, "My mother used to hold me " his voice trailed off and Lydia said suddenly, "You mean you want me to comfort you like I used to comfort little Patience?" "Yes! Yes!" whispered Levine. "It's going to sleep alone I Mother " Lydia knelt and sliding her arm under Levine's neck, she pulled his head over gently to rest on her shoulder.
"Don't you see that all John Levine's lands up there are haunted by death his own and all the starving Indians? Oh, why did he do this to me!" "I suppose you feel the same way about the cottage," said Amos, sarcastically. "I don't either," contradicted Lydia. "I'm as happy as I can be that we've got that. But all the rest! I won't have it, I tell you! I'd rather be poverty stricken all my life."
"If that's the case I guess we can bid you skunks good-evening," came quickly from Rawlinson. "Both of you beat it. And don't ever let me ketch you around here again." "What about my gun?" came feebly from Jim. "I'll send the guns over to Levine's office to-morrow," answered the head cowboy. "Now clear out, and be quick about it."
Her daughter described life in Denmark, the court and society, her new gowns and jewels, her visits to country houses, the celebrities she met. But her letters were literary and impersonal, nor was there in them a trace of her old energy of mind and vivacity of spirit. She never mentioned Levine's name, nor made an intimate allusion to herself.
"I am sent here by the Indian office to make a Roll of the Indians on this reservation, in the attempt to discover which are full and which mixed bloods." "Do you find your task difficult, Mr. Hardy?" Levine's voice was whimsical. "Very! The Government allows a man to claim his Indian rights when he has as little as one sixty-fourth of Indian blood in his veins.
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