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Woodrow, Nancy Mann Waddel, 1870-1935

"The Black Pearl"

Up and down the hill and in every direction he sent
his sweeping, careful gaze, his far-sighted eyes taking in every detail
of the landscape. Then he came toward Pearl, over the bare, brown
earth, running low.
"Oh, Jose, Jose," she cried, almost hysterical in her relief, "Harry is
down there," pointing to the cliff, "hurt, and you must help me get him
up, you must."
"Carramba! So that was the noise and screaming I heard in my rock cell
yonder, just as I was about to creep out and take a little air. I would
not have dared to come so far if I had not seen you here alone." He
threw himself on the ground and looked over the cliff. "Saints and
devils! It is true. Poor Harry! But you and I cannot get him up alone."
"But we can, we must," she cried imperatively. "Go to his cabin quickly
and bring some ropes. There is plenty of strong rope there. You can run
more quickly than I. Go."
"But the risk." Jose shook his head dubiously. "I shall be in full sight
all the way."
"What of it?" she cried frantically. "The moments pass and we are doing
nothing. No one will see you. Oh, go." Then, as he still hesitated, a
sudden thought struck her. She tore open the neck of her gown and drew
out the little black leather bag of loose stones. "Look!" she pulled it
open and held it out to him that he might see the gleaming jewels
inside. "There, will that make it worth your while? They are yours,
Jose, if you will only go."
With a low exclamation of surprise and admiration, Jose bent over them.


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