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Bonner, Geraldine, 1870-1930

"The Emigrant Trail"

"We can't lose
a horse now. We need every one of them. It's not here. It's beyond
in the mountains. We've got to get over by the first of September, and
we want every animal we have to do it. _He's_ not able to walk."
He shot a contemptuous glance at David that in less bitter times would
have made the young man's blood boil. But David was too far from his
normal self to care. He was not able to walk and was glad that Courant
understood it.
"I've got to go after them, I suppose," he said sullenly and turned to
where the animals looked on with expectant eyes. "But it's the last
time I'll do it. If they go again they'll stay gone."
There was a mutter from the other men. Susan, full of alarm, scrambled
into the back of the wagon and pulled on her clothes. When she emerged
David had the doctor's horse saddled and was about to mount. His face,
heavy-eyed and unwashed, bore an expression of morose anger, but
fatigue spoke pathetically in his slow, lifeless movements, the droop
of his thin, high shoulders.
"David," she called, jumping out over the wheel, "wait."
He did not look at her or answer, but climbed into the saddle and
gathered his rein.


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