It is no more than simple justice to the fair Phoebe to state that she
was, as her aunt expressed it, "in a dreadful state of mind." Between
these two picturesque and typical knights of plain and mountain she
vibrated, unable to make deliberate choice. That she was ardently
loved by each she realized with recurring thrills of pleasure; that she
loved in return she felt no doubt--but alas! which? How perfectly
delightful it would be could she only fall into some desperate plight,
from which the really daring knight might rescue her! That would cut
the Gordian knot. While laboring in this state of indecision she must
have voiced her ambition in some effective manner to the parties
concerned, for late one Wednesday night Moffat tramped heavily into the
Miners' Retreat and called Long Pete Lumley over into a deserted corner
of the bar-room.
"Well, Jack," the latter began expectantly, "hev ye railly got the
cinch on that cowboy at last, hey?"
"Dern it all, Pete, I 'm blamed if I know; leastwise, I ain't got no
sure prove-up. I tell ye thet girl's just about the toughest piece o'
rock I ever had any special call to assay.
Pages:
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319