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Vachell, Horace Annesley, 1861-1955

"Bunch Grass A Chronicle of Life on a Cattle Ranch"

And
then, from all points of the compass, the echoes, in varying cadence,
repeated that tremendous, awe-inspiring sound--the last sobbing cry of
a Titan.
A moment later Mamie received him and ushered him into the parlour,
where a small piano, a table of shellwork, and crimson plush curtains
challenged the interest and curiosity of all who were privileged to
behold them. "Let me take yer hat," said Mamie.
The hand she held out trembled slightly. Dennis perceived that she was
thinner and paler.
"Yer well fixed," he murmured. "An' happy as a clam, I reckon?"
"I'd oughter be happy," said Mamie dubiously. Then she added hastily,
"Never expected to see you in a logging-camp."
"No? Wal, I kinder wondered how you was makin' it. You don't look
extry peart, Mis' Barker. Lonesome for ye, ain't it?"
Already he knew that except for a few squaws she was the only woman in
the camp.
"I don't mind that," said Mrs. Barker.
Something in her tone arrested his attention. Stupid and slow though
he was, he divined that Mamie's thin, white cheeks and trembling hands
were not caused by lonesomeness.


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