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Curwood, James Oliver, 1879-1927

"The Golden Snare"

From the door of the cabin the
Eskimo's little eyes shone with a watery eagerness as he watched
them go. Celie caught a last glimpse of him as she looked back and
her hands gripped more firmly the rifle which lay across her lap.
Philip had given her the rifle and it had piled upon her a mighty
responsibility. He had meant that she should use it if the
emergency called for action, and that she was to especially watch
Blake. Her eyes did not leave the outlaw's broad back as he ran on
a dozen paces ahead of the dogs. She was ready for him if he tried
to escape, and she would surely fire. Running close to her side
Philip observed the tight grip of her hands on the weapon, and saw
one little thumb pinched up against the safety ready for instant
action. He laughed, and for a moment she looked up at him,
flushing suddenly when she saw the adoration in his face.
"Blake's right--I'm a fool," he cried down at her in a low voice
that thrilled with his worship of her. "I'm a fool for risking
you, sweetheart. By going the other way I'd have you forever.


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