"May God strike me dead if I don't make you happy!" he whispered.
VII
CONCLUSION
Bailey woke in the night, chilled. The fire was low, and as he rose to
add some coal to the stove he looked about him in his way. Rivers' bunk
was empty. He glanced toward the bed, and saw him wrapped in his buffalo
coat kneeling beside Blanche's pillow. He seemed asleep, as his cheek
rested upon his right hand, which was clasped in both of hers.
The young pioneer sat for several minutes thinking, staring straight at
his friend. There was something here that made all the difference in
the world. Suppose these people really loved each other as he loved
Estelle? Then he softly fed the fire and lay down again.
His brain whirled as if some sharp blow had dazzled him. Outside the
implacable winds still rushed and warred, and beat and clamored,
shrieking, wailing, like voices from hell. The snow dashed like surf
against the walls. It seemed to cut off the little cabin from the rest
of the world and to dwarf all human action like the sea.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98