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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

"
"I'm very sorry," repeated the woman, her lips quivering.
"They are the scavengers of the wood," he continued in a lighter tone;
"if you stay here you must try to use them to keep your house clean."
Teresa smiled nervously.
"I mean that they shall finish their work to-night," he added, "and I
shall build another camp-fire for us a mile from here until they do."
But Teresa caught his sleeve.
"No," she said hurriedly, "don't, please, for me. You must not take the
trouble, nor the risk. Hear me; do, please. I can bear it, I _will_
bear it--to-night. I would have borne it last night, but it was so
strange--and"--she passed her hands over her forehead--"I think I must
have been half mad. But I am not so foolish now."
She seemed so broken and despondent that he replied reassuringly:
"Perhaps it would be better that I should find another hiding-place for
you, until I can dispose of that carcass, so that it will not draw dogs
after the wolves, and men after _them_. Besides, your friend the
sheriff will probably remember the bear when he remembers anything, and
try to get on its track again.


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