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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Mr. Jack Hamlin's Mediation"

"Do you call
that a laughing matter?"
She stopped at the sound of his voice as at a blow. Her face hardened
into immobility, yet when she replied it was with the deliberate
indolence of her father. "The wimmen are up on the hills by this time.
The boys hev bin drowned out many times afore this and got clear off,
on sluice boxes and timber, without squealing. Tom Flynn went down
ten miles to Sayer's once on two bar'ls, and I never heard that HE was
cryin' when they picked him up."
A flush came to Hemmingway's cheek, but with it a gleam of intelligence.
Of course the inundation was known to them FIRST, and there was the
wreckage to support them. They had clearly saved themselves. If they had
abandoned the cabin, it was because they knew its security, perhaps had
even seen it safely adrift.
"Has this ever happened to the cabin before?" he asked, as he thought of
its peculiar base.
"No."
He looked at the water again. There was a decided current. The overflow
was evidently no part of the original inundation.


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