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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"


"Don't be a fool," he said softly in her ear. "Don't act like a silly
baby," and the iron hands unclasped her arms and drew her back till
David's head slid from her knees to the ground.
"There! We're all right now." He let her go, snatched up the dipper
and sent a splash of water into David's face.
"Poor David," he said. "This'll spoil his good looks."
"Stop," she almost screamed. "I'd rather have him lie in a faint for
an hour than have you speak so about him."
Without noticing her, he threw another jet of water and David stirred,
drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. They touched the sky, the
wagon, the nearby sage, and then Susan's face. There they rested,
recognition slowly suffusing them.
"What happened?" he said in a husky voice.
"Fainted, that was all," said Courant.
David closed his eyes.
"Oh, yes, I remember now."
Susan bent over him.
"You frightened me so!"
"I'm sorry, Missy, but it made me sick--the leg and those awful cries."
Courant emptied the dipper on the ground.
"I'll see if they've got any whisky. You'll have to get your grit up,
David, for the rest of the trail," and he left them.


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