Brewster got hunting leave, pending the acceptance of his resignation, and went to the railway. In less than a week he was all but forgotten in a newer interest.In half an hour he was back, and having produced his scouting togs from the depths of a sky-blue chest, smelling horribly of tobacco and camphor, he fell to dressing.
The Reverend Taylor nodded again. "Reckon she could. But—" he grabbed at a fly with one hand, and caught and crushed it in his palm with much dexterity, "but—she's lit out."The horse came down to a walk. She had lost all control of the reins now, and clung to the pommel with both hands, swaying from side to side. She could hear galloping hoofs, behind and in front—or was it only the blood, the icy cold blood, pounding in her ears?Of course she was sorry, she protested, a little indignant that he should ask it. She would be horribly lonesome.Landor agreed with him, "I told the citizens so, but they knew better."
路见不平Eason吼
