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Jackson, Helen Hunt, 1830-1885

"Ramona"


"I don't believe it was anybody, after all, father," persisted the
woman. "Bud's always seein' things. I don't believe there was
anybody there. Come in; supper's gettin' all cold."
"Well, I'll jest fire, to let 'em know there's powder 'n shot round
here," said the fiend. "If it hits any on 'em roamin' round, he won't
know what hurt him;" and levelling his gun at random, with his
drunken, unsteady hand he fired. The bullet whistled away
harmlessly into the empty darkness. Hearkening a few moments,
and hearing no cry, he hiccuped, "Mi-i-issed him that time," and
went in to his supper.
Alessandro did not dare to stir for a long time. How he cursed his
own folly in having brought himself into this plight! What needless
pain of waiting he was inflicting on the faithful one, watching for
him in that desolate and fearful place of graves! At last he
ventured,-- sliding along on his belly a few inches at a time, till,
several rods from the house, he dared at last to spring to his feet
and bound away at full speed for Hartsel's.
Hartsel's was one of those mongrel establishments to be seen
nowhere except in Southern California.


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