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Buck, Charles Neville, 1879-1930

"A Pagan of the Hills"

Then they went forward
at a snail's pace.
Alexander could feel no degree of security until the timber masked her
course and whether by intent or accident, these chance fellow wayfarers
had become a definite menace. So, fretting at the delay, she waited
there for some time, and when she made the next turning, she saw them
waiting with no apparent purpose in life save to pass and repass her.
She rode by again, this time with an angry coloring of her cheeks and
shook her lazy beast into a trot. Behind her trotted the two.
Eventually the girl drew rein, squarely and belligerently confronting
the troublesome though inoffensive looking pair.
"Hain't I got a license ter travel ther highway without bein' follered
an' bedeviled," she demanded angrily, and the two youths seemed at
first too abashed for speech. One of them, who was an almost albino
blond, flushed to the roots of his pale hair.
"I reckon hit jest chanced thet-a-way," he stammered. "We kinderly
happens ter be travelin' ther same direction, an' goin' ther same rate,
thet's all."
"Well don't let hit chanst thet way no more!" Her eyes were flaming
now with a blue light like burning alcohol.


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