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Henry, O., 1862-1910

"Rolling Stones"

"
Bill held out his right hand. Even in the deepening twilight, I could
see on the back of it a long, white scar that might have been made by
a claw or a knife or some sharp-edged tool.
"Oh, well," said the florid man, carelessly, "I'll know what to do later
on."
He walked away without another word. When he had gone ten steps he
turned and called to Bell:
"You keep well out of the way when the goods are delivered, so there
won't be any hitch in the business."
"All right," answered Bell, "I'll attend to my end of the line."
This talk was scarcely clear in its meaning to me; but as it did not
concern me, I did not let it weigh upon my mind. But the singularity
of the other man's appearance lingered with me for a while; and as we
walked toward Bell's house I remarked to him:
"Your customer seems to be a surly kind of fellow--not one that you'd
like to be snowed in with in a camp on a hunting trip."
"He is that," assented Bell, heartily. "He reminds me of a rattlesnake
that's been poisoned by the bite of a tarantula.


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