It's strange you give up on hearin' that,
when all this long time you've been the gamest woman I ever seen.
But I don't know women. Mebbe there's reason for you to cry. I
know this--nothin' ever rang in my soul an' so filled it as what
Venters did. I'd like to have done it, but--I'm only good for
throwin' a gun, en' it seems you hate that....Well, I'll be goin'
now."
"Where?"
"Venters took Wrangle to the stable. The sorrel's shy a shoe, an'
I've got to help hold the big devil an' put on another."
"Tell Bern to come for the pack I want to give him--and--and to
say good-by," called Jane, as Lassiter went out.
Jane passed the rest of that day in a vain endeavor to decide
what and what not to put in the pack for Venters. This task was
the last she would ever perform for him, and the gifts were the
last she would ever make him. So she picked and chose and
rejected, and chose again, and often paused in sad revery, and
began again, till at length she filled the pack.
It was about sunset, and she and Fay had finished supper and were
sitting in the court, when Venters's quick steps rang on the
stones. She scarcely knew him, for he had changed the tattered
garments, and she missed the dark beard and long hair. Still he
was not the Venters of old. As he came up the steps she felt
herself pointing to the pack, and heard herself speaking words
that were meaningless to her.
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