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White, Stewart Edward, 1873-1946

"The Riverman"


"I'll have to get an extension of time," said Orde to himself. "Of
course Joe will let me have more time on my own personal note to the
firm. And Heinzman surely ought to--I saved a lot of his logs in
that jam. And if he doesn't want to, I guess an offer of a little
higher interest will fetch him."
Ordinarily the state of affairs would have worried him, for it was
exactly the situation he had fought against so hard. But now he was
too wearied in soul and body. He dismissed the subject from his
mind. The horses, left almost to themselves, lapsed into a sleepy
jog. After a little they passed the bridge and entered the town.
Warm spicy odours of pine disengaged themselves from the broken
shingles and sawdust of the roadway, and floated upward through the
hot sunshine. The beautiful maples with their dense shadows threw
the sidewalks into coolness. Up one street and down another the
horses took their accustomed way. Finally they pulled up opposite
the Orde house. Orde hitched the horses, and, his step quickening
in anticipation, sprang up the walk and into the front door.
"Hullo, sweetheart!" he called cheerily.
The echoes alone answered him. He cried again, and yet again, with
a growing feeling of disappointment that Carroll should happen to be
from home.


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