Yes, an' Dan Kerry's the boy to git ye out o' this under the
very noses o' that police an' detective gang at Asheville. 'Tis you an' me
that'll go together, Andy."
Proudfoot still knelt. His nostrils flickered; his eyes glowed. "Have a
care what you're a-sayin'," he began, in a low, shaking voice. "Euola!
Euola! You've saw me pretty mild; but don't you be mistook by that, like
that feller Dickert was mistook. Don't you lie to me an' try to fool me
'bout her. One o' them fellers I shot had me half-way to Garyville, tellin'
me she was thar--sick--an' sont him fer me."
Kerry laughed aloud. "Me foolin' you!" he jeered. "'Tis a child I've been
in your hands, ye black, big, still, solemn rascal! Here's money a-plenty,
an' you that knows these mountains--the fur side--an' me that knows the
ropes. You'll lend me a stake f'r the West. We'll go together--all four of
us. Oh Lord!" and again tears were on the sanguine cheeks.
The Level of Fortune
BY ABBY MEGUIRE ROACH
She was the ambition of the younger girls and the envy of the less
fortunate. Bessie Hall had _everything_, they said.
Her prettiness, indeed, was chiefly in slender plumpness and bloom.
Pages:
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37