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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Courage of Marge O'Doone"

She was waving at him
then, fully two hundred yards up that infernal hill, and he was sure
that she was laughing. He had almost reached the top when he saw her
sitting in the shade of a rock, watching him as he toiled upward. There
was a mischievous seriousness in the blue of her eyes when he reached
her side.
"I'm sorry, _Sakewawin_," she said, lowering her eyes until they were
hidden under the silken sheen of her long lashes, "I couldn't make Tara
go slowly. He is hungry, and he knows that he is going home."
"And I thought you had sore feet," he managed to say.
"I don't ride him going _down_ a mountain," she explained, thrusting out
her ragged little feet. "I can't hang on, and I slip over his head. You
must walk ahead of Tara. That will hold him back."
He tried this experiment when they continued their ascent, and Tara
followed so uncomfortably close that at times David could feel his warm
breath against his hand. When they reached the second slope the girl
walked beside him. For a half mile it was not a bad climb and there was
soft grass underfoot. After that came the rock and shale, and the air
grew steadily colder. They had started at one o'clock and it was five
when they reached the first snow.


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