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Finley, Martha, 1828-1909

"Elsie's Womanhood"

At the farther side, built just on the
edge of the forest, was a rude log cabin. A slatternly woman stood in the
open doorway.
"So ye did get back at last?" she remarked, as he drew near. "I'd most
give ye up. What ails your arm now?"
He briefly repeated his story to the doctor and skipper; then asked
hurriedly, "Is my horse all right?"
The woman nodded. "I've tuck good care on her. Now where's the gold ye
promised me?"
"Here," he said, taking out, and holding up before her delighted eyes,
several shining half-eagles; "have my horse saddled and bridled and
brought round to the door here as quickly as possible, and these are
yours."
"I'll do it. Bill," to a half-grown youth who sat on a rude bench within
lazily smoking a pipe--"run and fetch the gentleman's hoss. But what's yer
hurry, mister?"
"This," he answered, pointing to the disabled limb; "it's growing worse,
and I'm in haste to get home, where I can be nursed by mother and sisters,
before I quite give out."
"She's a awful sperited cratur, and you'll have a hard job o' it to manage
her, with one hand."
"I must try it, nevertheless; I believe I can do it too; for she knows her
master."
"She'll go like lightnin'," said the boy, as he brought the animal to the
door; "she's been so long in the stable, she's as wild and scary as a
bird.


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