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McCutcheon, George Barr, 1866-1928

"The Daughter of Anderson Crow"

She's fainted, I reckon. Hurry up; I want
to turn in."
"Better untie her hands--see if she's froze," added Bill savagely.
Roughly the old woman slashed the bonds from the girl's hands and feet
and then looked askance at Sam, who stood warming his hands over a
kerosene stove not far away. He nodded his head, and she instantly
untied the cloth that covered Rosalie's mouth.
"It won't do no good to scream, girl. Nobody'll hear ye but us--and
we're your friends," snarled the old woman.
"Let her yell if she wants to, Maude. It may relieve her a bit," said
Sam, meaning to be kind. Instinctively Rosalie looked about for the
person addressed as Maude. There was but one woman in the gang. Maude!
That was the creature's name. Instead of crying or shrieking, Rosalie
laughed outright.
At the sound of the laugh the woman drew back hastily.
"By gor!" she gasped; "the--she's gone daffy!"
The men turned toward them with wonder in their faces. Bill was the
first to comprehend. He saw the girl's face grow sober with an effort,
and realised that she was checking her amusement because it was sure to
offend.
"Aw," he grinned, "I don't blame her fer laughin'! Say what ye will,
Maude, your name don't fit you."
"It's as good as any name--" began the old hag, glaring at him; but Sam
interposed with a command to her to get them some hot coffee while he
had a talk with the girl.


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