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Brand, Max, 1892-1944

"Trailin'!"

It is the sort of
look which the curious turn on the man accused of a great crime and
sitting in the court room guilty. His trial in silence had continued
until he was found guilty. Apparently, he was now to be both judged and
executed at the same time.
There could not be long delay. The entrance of Gregory had almost been
the precipitant of action, and though it had been smoothed over to an
extent, still the air was each moment more charged with suspense. The
men were lighting their second cigarette. With each second it grew
clearer that they were waiting for something. And as if thoughtful of
the work before them, they no longer talked so fluently.
Finally there was no talk at all, save for sporadic outbursts, and the
blue smoke and the brown curled up slowly in undisturbed drifts toward
the ceiling until a bright halo formed around the gasoline lamp. A
childish thought came to Bard that where the smoke was so thick the fire
could not be long delayed.
A second form appeared in the doorway, lithe, graceful, and the light
made her hair almost golden.


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