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Dyson, Edward, 1865-1931

"The Gold-Stealers A Story of Waddy"

I cannot help him now.' She sank back upon a chair and
followed her father's movements with tearless, hopeless eyes.
'Rogers is a liar!' muttered Shine. 'A liar he is, an' he'd rob me; but
I'll beat him. It's hid down here, down among the rocks. The gold is
mine, mine, mine!' His voice rose to a thin scream and he beat fiercely
upon the boards with his bony hand.
'He has been ill ever since Rogers was taken, but he only took this turn
this evening. Oh! I tried hard to help him; I tried hard! He is my
father. Oh, my poor father! my poor, poor father!
'Hush, hush, dear,' said Mrs. Hardy. 'We must help him on to his bed.
Come!'
Each took an arm of the sick man and raised him to his feet. He offered
no resistance, but allowed them to lead him to the bunk in the other room
and place him upon it, although he continued to utter wild threats
against Joe Rogers and to chummer about the gold, and move his hands
about, scratching amongst the bedclothes.
Mrs. Hardy brought the light from the kitchen, and busied herself over
the delirious man, making him as comfortable as possible upon his narrow
bed. She gave directions to Chris and the girl obeyed them, bringing
necessary things and making a fire in the kitchen. She seemed inspired
with a new hope, and presently she moved to Mrs. Hardy's side again.
'Do you think he will die?' she asked.


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