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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Bob Hampton of Placer"

He thought it all over again and again, dwelling in reawakened
memory upon details long hidden within the secret recesses of his
brain, yet so little came from this searching survey that the result
left him no plan for the future. He had wandered too far away from
home; the path leading back was long ago overgrown with weeds, and
could not now be retraced. One thing he grasped clearly,--the girl
should be given her chance; nothing in his life must ever again soil
her or lower her ideals. Mrs. Herndon was right, and he realized it;
neither his presence nor his money were fit to influence her future.
He swore between his clinched teeth, his face grown haggard. The sun's
rays bridged the slowly darkening valley with cords of red gold, and
the man pulled himself to his feet by gripping the root of a tree. He
realized that he had been sitting there for hours, and that he was
hungry.
Down beneath, amid the fast awakening noise and bustle of early
evening, the long discipline of the gambler reasserted itself--he got
back his nerve. It was Bob Hampton, cool, resourceful, sarcastic of
speech, quick of temper, who greeted the loungers about the hotel, and
who sat, with his back to the wall, in the little dining-room, watchful
of all others present.


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