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Lillibridge, Will (William Otis), 1878-1909

"Where the Trail Divides"

Then at last,
the fire replenished and a couple of long-haired buffalo robes thrown
within the radius of its heat, he stretched full length thereon in the
perfect contentment of one whose labor for the day is done, and awaited
the something he knew had brought the other to him at this unusual hour.
"There's a pipe and tobacco in the drawer of the little table at your
right," he assisted.
Landor roused with a trace of surprise.
"I didn't know you ever smoked," he commented.
"I don't," simply. Again there was no suggestion of the superfluous, the
obvious explanation.
Nervously, almost jerkily, Landor filled the brier bowl and pressed the
brown flakes tight with his little finger. The match he lit crackled
explosively, and he started at the unexpected sound as one whose nerves
were on edge. The pipe aglow, he still sat for a moment puffing hard.
"How," he initiated then abruptly, "I wish you would do me a favour.
Will you promise me?"
The younger man did not hesitate, did not question. "If in my power,
yes, sir," he said.
That was all, yet better than a complete chapter it told the relation of
the two men; the unquestioning confidence of the younger, the trace of
almost patriarchal respect that never left his manner when, addressing
the elder. "If in my power, yes, sir."
"It isn't much I'm going to ask," continued Landor hurriedly. "It's
simply that you and Bess be married at once instead of waiting until the
day set.


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