That day we were in the orchard, all red an' white with bloom,
and she dared me to a race. I let her beat me, and when I came up she
stood under one of the trees, her cheeks like the pink blossoms, and her
hair all tumbled about her like an armful of gold, shaking the loose
apple blossoms down on her head. I forgot everything then, and I didn't
stop until I had her in my arms, an'--an' she's been my little pardner
ever since. After the baby came we moved up into Canada, where I had a
good chance in a new mining town. An' then--" A furious blast of the
storm sent the overhanging spruce tops smashing against the top of the
cabin. Straight overhead the wind shrieked almost like human voices, and
the one window rattled as though it were shaken by human hands. The lamp
had been burning lower and lower. It began to flicker now, the quick
sputter of the wick lost in the noise of the gale. Then it went out.
Brokaw leaned over and opened the door of the big box stove, and the red
glow of the fire took the place of the lamplight. He leaned back and
relighted his pipe, eyeing Billy. The sudden blast, the going out of the
light, the opening of the stove door, had all happened in a minute, but
the interval was long enough to bring a change in Billy's voice. It was
cold and hard when he continued. He leaned over toward Brokaw, and the
boyishness had gone from his face.
"Of course, I can't expect you to have any sympathy for this other
business, Brokaw," he went on.
Pages:
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172