That Girl of Johnson's — page 35: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

rau ee eae THAT GIRL OF JOHNSON’S. carrying her master up the mountain road away from her, away from the stolid settlement shut in by the silent mountains. Her eyes were on her father when the news was told by one of the neighbors. Her father had put on his hat, and was starting for the tavern after supper when one of the men who had been across the mountain hunting, and had come back through the town, stopped at the door to tell of his luck, and the people gathered one by one at the door to listen. This stray item of news strayed in with the rest of his gossip, waking only such interest as such a piece of news was likely to waken in the quiet little settlement. A nail was driven into the mare’s hoof, and she was dead lame. The hostler had found it when he examined her hoof, which was not until the morning following the day Green was at the settlement. His master had given him orders to attend to the animal, but he had failed to do this, and all help was out of the question. It was a hard blow to the young man, the speaker said, for he had thought as much of her as though she were a woman. Conjecture was rife as to who had done the deed. Sus- picion rested particularly in one direction, and the suspi- cion was pretty well founded, but the young man would wait until there could be not a doubt. And here the story ended. Dolores had listened silently, as was her habit, no one noticing her. She never had aught to say in such matters ; why should this story interest her more than any other? She was very quiet. The moon was at the full, and rode high above the opposite mountain, sending a streak of light across the floor. She stepped back out of the door- way into the shadow; her face was drawn and white, and her lips were a straight red line. The memory of her father’s words the other day returned to her with a force she could not account for. The dread was falling upon her with renewed force. Over and over, mingled with the memory of the black mare and her rider, the words were \ Gomicbooks.co