Better that you kill him before it is too late."' "Hardly that," said the trader.
"Think of the little ones and of me," the squaw insisted, and, encouraged by his silence, continued: "Why not?
Soon the nights will grow dark.

The river runs swiftly, and it never gives up its dead.

I can do it if you dare not.

No one would suspect me." Gale rose and laid his big hand firmly on her shoulder.
"Don't talk like that.

There has been too much blood let already.