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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Frontier Stories"

No, sir!
Coming along here I said to Union Mills--didn't I?--'Bet your life the
Old Man's not far off, even if he ain't in the cabin.' Why, the moment
I stepped foot"--
"And I said coming along," interrupted Union Mills, with equally
reviving mendacity, 'Like as not he's hangin' round yer and lyin' low
just to give us a surprise.' He! ho!"
"He's gone for good, and he left that rifle here on purpose," said the
Left Bower in a low voice, taking the weapon almost tenderly in his
hands.
"Drop it, then!" said the Right Bower. The voice was that of his
brother, but suddenly changed with passion. The two other partners drew
back in alarm.
"I'll not leave it here for the first comer," said the Left Bower,
calmly, "because we've been fools and he too. It's too good a weapon
for that."
"Drop it, I say!" said the Right Bower, with a savage stride towards
him.
The younger brother brought the rifle to a half charge with a white
face but a steady eye.
"Stop where you are!" he said collectedly. "Don't row with _me_,
because you haven't either the grit to stick to your ideas or the heart
to confess them wrong.


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