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Buck, Charles Neville, 1879-1930

"A Pagan of the Hills"

"
Her voice still held that cold note of inflexible but quiet anger.
"Yes, ye licked him but hit looks like ter me ye picked yore man plum
keerful an' got ye an easy one. Wait hyar, I'm goin' atter my hat."
"What fer?"
"Were a'goin' over thar tergether--an' ye're goin' ter crave his
pardon."
"I wouldn't crave his pardon," burst out the boy violently, "ter save
his soul from torment. I'd be a laughing stock ef I did."
"Ye're agoin' ter do one of two things, Joe," she announced with
finality. "Ye're either agoin' ter ask his pardon, whilst I stands by
an' hears ye do hit or else ye're a'goin' ter tell him thet ye licked
him over ther wrong words--an' thet seein' ye blundered, ye're willin'
ter lick him afresh over ther right ones--him or anybody he names ter
fight in his place."
Joe hung his head for a moment, then the pricking of the old self-scorn
came with a turning tide.
"All right," he said. "Let's go."
It was an unmannerly, but a very astonished crew upon which they came
but at the sight of Alexander herself they all became sheepish and
discomfited of aspect.


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