How clearly she could see them all! Bud Mansie, meager, lean, with a
shifting eye; Garry Patterson, of the red, good-natured face; Phil
Branch, stolid and short and muscled like a giant; Handsome Dick
Wilbur on his racing bay; Black Gandil, with his villainies from the
South Seas like an invisible mantle of awe about him; and her father,
the stalwart, gray Boone.
All these had gone, and there remained only Pierre le Rouge to follow
in the steps of the six who had gone before.
She crawled to the door, feeble in mind and shuddering of body like a
runner who has spent his last energy in a long race, and drew it open.
The wind blew up the valley from the Old Crow, but no sound came back
to her, no calling from Pierre; and over her rose the black pyramid of
the western peak of the Twin Bears like a monstrous nose pointing
stiffly toward the stars.
She closed the door, dragged herself back to her feet, and stood with
her shoulders leaning against the wall. Her weakness was not
weariness--it was as if something had been taken from her.
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