“What can you do?” she asked. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. As it was, my oldest and trustiest setter, Abraham Mendez, received a blow on the head from one of the lads that will deprive me of his services for a week to come,—if, indeed it does not disable him altogether. The air became hot and swollen with June humidity. No; the future was not so dark; there was a bit of dawn visible. In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. It’s a beautiful plant, but a tender one.
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