"It air shorely hard to see," said one in a low, slow voice, "why she
was taken, 'n1 him left; why she should hev to give her life fer the
life he took. But He knows, He knows," the mountaineer
continued, with unfaltering trust; and then, after a moment's
struggle to reconcile fact with faith: "The Lord took whut He
keered fer most, 'n' she was ready, 'n' he wasn t.
The other made no reply, and they kept on in silence. Upon a spur
of the mountain beneath which the little mining-town had sunk to
quiet for the night they parted with a hand-clasp. Not till then was
the silence broken.
"Thar seems to be a penalty fer lovin' too ''much down hyar," said one; " 'n' I reckon," he added, slowly, "that both of us hev got hit to pay."
Turning, the speaker retraced his steps. The other kept on toward
the lights below.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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