I tell ye I can't stand it--I can't stand it." And he turned his
head and covered his face with his sleeve.
The outburst and gesture only intensified my anxiety. Was Jim's mind
giving away? I arose from my seat and bent over him, my hand on his arm.
"Why, that's only a bird, Jim--I saw it--it's gone into the bushes."
"Yes, I know it; I seen it; that's what hurts me; that's what's allus
goin' to hurt me. And 'tain't only goin' to be the birds. It's goin' to
be the trees and the gray-backs and the trout we catched, and everywhere
I look and every place I go to it's goin' to be the same thing. And it
ain't never goin' to be no better--never--never--long as I live. She
said so. Them was her very words I ain't never goin' to forgit 'em." And
he leaned his head in a baffled, tired way against the planking of
the mill.
"Who said so, Jim?" I asked.
Jim raised his head, looked me straight in the face and, with the tears
starting in his eyes, answered in a low voice:
"Ruby. She loves 'em--loves every one o' 'em.
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