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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"


With silent pangs the student saw his books thrown on the banks of the
river while his keg of whisky, sugar and coffee were stored among the
Gillespies' effects. Then they started, a much diminished train--one
wagon, a girl, and three mounted men.


CHAPTER VII
It was Sunday afternoon, and the doctor and his daughter were sitting
by a group of alders on the banks of the little river called Ham's
Fork. On the uplands above, the shadows were lengthening, and at
intervals a light air caught up swirls of dust and carried them
careening away in staggering spirals.
The doctor was tired and lay stretched on the ground. He looked
bloodless and wan, the grizzled beard not able to hide the thinness of
his face. The healthful vigor he had found on the prairie had left
him, each day's march claiming a dole from his hoarded store of
strength. He knew--no one else--that he had never recovered the
vitality expended at the time of Bella's illness. The call then had
been too strenuous, the depleted reservoir had filled slowly, and now
the demands of unremitting toil were draining it of what was left.


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