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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0e200a1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67288 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67288) diff --git a/old/67288-0.txt b/old/67288-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 43cb215..0000000 --- a/old/67288-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,906 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Right Thing, by Ray Cummings - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Right Thing - -Author: Ray Cummings - -Release Date: January 31, 2022 [eBook #67288] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIGHT THING *** - - - - - - The Right Thing - - By Ray Cummings - - -[Illustration] - - - - -The girl stood quiet in the cabin doorway looking out at the -brilliant, frosty night. Over Sugar Loaf the cold, glittering moon -shone full; the big fir on its summit stood stark and black against -the vivid blue of the star-studded sky behind, like a giant sentinel -watching over the silent valley. - -Below her, at the bottom of the little pass, the winding trail with -its single strand of telephone wire beside it, showed plainly in the -moonlight. Up the mountain a wolf began howling. The girl turned back -into the cabin abruptly and closed the door behind her. - -The supper she had been preparing was almost ready. The little board -table near the fireplace was set for one; over in a corner from a -large, wood-burning stove came the odor of steaming coffee. - -The girl put a lighted kerosene lamp upon the table and served herself -with a single plateful of food from the frying-pan. Once she stood -still, listening, but only the muffled noise of the brook and the lone -wolf baying broke the silence. For a brief instant her glance rested -on the telephone instrument fastened to the wall beside the fireplace; -then, as though reassured, she sat down and began her solitary meal. - -A knock upon the door made her leap to her feet and stand for an -instant trembling. She put her hand into the pocket of her gingham -apron, her fingers gripping a little revolver that lay there. The -knock was repeated. The girl withdrew her hand—empty—and with a -trembling smile that seemed to belittle her fear, she crossed the room -swiftly and flung open the door. - -A man stood on the threshold—a slim young man in a short heavy coat, -blue flannel shirt, corduroy trousers, and neat, incongruous leather -puttees. He was bareheaded. He stood wavering with a hand against the -doorway to steady himself, all his weight on one foot and the toe of -the other just touching the ground. - -“You!” cried the girl. Her tone held amazement, but it was tender, -too, with love. Then as she saw the pallor of his face in the -lamplight, and his lips pressed together in a thin straight line of -pain, she cried again: - -“Tom, you’re hurt!” - -Her arms went around him, and leaning heavily on her, he hobbled -across the room. The pain made him moan, and he sank back in the chair -and closed his eyes. The girl knelt on the floor beside him, and began -gently to unstrap one of his puttees. After a moment he seemed to -recover a little. He sat up and wiped the sweat of weakness from his -forehead with his coat sleeve. - -“I know I shouldn’t have stopped, Beth, but I—I knew you were alone -tonight.” For an instant the drawn lines of pain left his face; his -eyes looked into the girl’s tenderly. - -Beth looked up into his face, brushing back a wisp of hair that had -fallen forward over her eyes. That he had come here frightened her. -But she was glad that he had come, and the sight of his pale face with -the look of pain on it made her eyes fill with tears of love and -sympathy. - -“What happened, Tom?” she asked. - -The boy shook himself together. “I wouldn’t have stopped, honest, -Beth—only my horse threw me—a mile back toward Rocky Gulch.” He winced -as the girl withdrew the puttee and began unlacing his shoe. - -“Only sprained, I guess,” he added. “But it hurts like the devil—and -I’m bruised all over from the fall.” He laughed a little in boyish -apology for showing his pain to a girl. - -“It was about an hour ago. I wasn’t going to stop—I wanted to get to -Vailstown tonight. The horse shied at something, and bolted, and left -me lying there. I don’t know—I guess I’m a rotten rider.” He grinned -sheepishly. - -He had come to her! Of course, it was all he could do then, without a -horse and with a sprained ankle at night on the Vailstown road. At the -thought of having him here with her when he was hurt and needed her -help, the girl’s heart grew very loving and tender. - -“I’ve been an hour coming,” he went on quietly—he brushed her hair -lightly with his fingers and smiled—“and now I’m here, Beth, I’m—I’m -sort of glad the accident happened.” - -She made no answer, but went on taking off his shoe and the heavy -woolen sock; his ankle was red and swollen. She raised his foot to a -low wooden bench, and he watched her silently while she filled a pail -with hot water. Then he noticed the food on the table. - -“Finish eating, Beth,” he said. “This can wait—it doesn’t hurt much -when I hold it still.” - -Again she did not reply, but held his foot and ankle in the water a -moment, and then, wrapping it in an improvised bandage, replaced the -sock. She was very tender and gentle. Once the boy made as if to kiss -her, but she pulled away, effectually but without resentment. -Wonderment was in his eyes as he followed her swift, deft movements. - -“Why don’t you say something, Beth?” he asked after a moment. “What’s -the matter with you?” - -“Now you can eat with me,” she said. She had made him as comfortable -as possible, and returned to the stove. - -He took the plate of food she handed him. “I know I shouldn’t have -stopped, Beth—but I couldn’t do anything else, could I?” - -“How did you know I was alone?” She knew what he was going to answer, -and it frightened her. - -“I saw your stepfather in Rocky Gulch this afternoon—no, wait, listen -Beth—I’d tell you, wouldn’t I, if anything had happened?” - -He went on impetuously, as though to dispel her rising fear. - -“He was drunk, Beth, and he’s too old a man. Look at that”—he clenched -his fist, and the muscles of his bared forearm rose up in knots—“I -could have twisted his neck with that for what he said about me and -you. But I promised I wouldn’t lift a hand to him, and I didn’t, no -matter what he said. I didn’t mean to meet him—and then—when he said -what he did I—well, I just listened and beat it, that’s all.” - -The boy shoved his food away from him untouched, and looked across the -table to meet Beth’s frightened eyes. - -“Don’t you worry, kid,” he added reassuringly, “I won’t hurt him, and -he can’t hurt me—except with his gun.” The girl shuddered, and he -hastened to add: - -“He wouldn’t do that, Beth. Don’t you think it for a minute! Even when -he’s drunk he wouldn’t do that—he’s too much of a coward—he knows he’d -swing for it.” - -“He _said_ he would, Tom.” - -“He said he would if I come up here again. I didn’t come, did I?” - -It was a month now since her stepfather in drunken rage had ordered -Tom from the house and threatened to shoot him if he ever came there -again. But after all, he had to come tonight, as things happened. And -her stepfather was away—the first time he had been away in months—and -he need never know that Tom had been here. - -“He won’t be back until tomorrow—you’ll be gone then,” said Beth, -voicing her thoughts. - -Her words seemed to rouse the boy to sudden anger. “Why should he -forbid my seeing you, anyway?” he went on, resentfully. “I love you, -Beth, and you love me. And I want to marry you!” His tone changed -abruptly. “You _do_ love me, Beth?” - -He held out his arms appealingly, and in answer the girl rose silently -and kissed him. “You know that, Tom,” she said simply. - -“Then why do I have to sneak away like a thief? Just because we love -each other, what’s that he’s got against me?” - -“You know why he said it was, Tom.” She crossed the room again to -attend to the stove. - -“Because I haven’t got any money. I know—that’s what he said. But I’ve -got enough to keep you as well as he does—and better.” He glanced -around the cabin contemptuously. “You know that isn’t the reason. It’d -be the same, anyway—unless maybe I had a fortune and would give him -some of it.” - -Beth winced. It hurt, somehow, to have him say things like that. But -she knew it was true. And she knew, too, just how he felt—how he -resented the way he had been treated. - -“Besides, why shouldn’t I marry you?” the boy went on. “I’m from the -East, same as you. I’ve been to college—my family’s as good as -yours—for all his drunken talk—better than _his_, if you ask me. What -he wants is to get you a rich husband back East if he can’t stake a -big-paying claim out here. And I don’t fit into that scheme. That’s -what’s the matter, and you know it.” - -Beth laid the coffee cups on the table and sat down again, facing him. - -“You mustn’t talk that way, Tom,” she remonstrated. “You just mustn’t. -I won’t listen. I’ve told you that before. I can’t listen to such -things. Why were you going to Vailstown tonight?” - -He ignored her question. “Well, I’m right, and you know it. I love -you, and I’d make you happy. He’s the only thing in the way. So far as -your happiness is concerned, he’d be better off dead, and I wish he -was. Oh, I know it’s a rotten thing to say, but I do. Look at that.” - -He leaned forward suddenly, and gripped her by the shoulder, pulling -her toward him. - -“Your neck’s bruised black and blue. You think I don’t notice things -like that, don’t you? I know how he treats you when he’s crazy -drunk—and I’m the only one who does. And I can’t do anything about it -because you won’t let me.” - -“Tom—I—” - -“And because he’s your stepfather, you won’t let anybody say a word -against him. But you know he’s no good to himself, or anybody else. -He’d be better off dead, and you know it. Somebody’ll get him one of -these days, too—the way he acts down there at the Gulch when he’s -drunk—you wait and see. Some day they’ll find him lying in a gully or -something, where somebody’s pushed him. He hasn’t got a decent friend -in the world—only the bums are good enough for him. And that damn -One-Eyed Charlie he pals around with.” - -Beth sighed hopelessly. - -“Some day they’ll find him dead down there,” the boy went on. -“Charlie’ll do it, maybe—he’s a rattlesnake anyway. And when he talks -to me like he did today, and I see your neck horribly bruised the way -it is now, I feel as if I could do it myself, sometimes—if I had a -good chance.” - -His words shocked her, perhaps even more because some little -whispering devil inside said it would be better that way—better for -all three of them. She rose abruptly, and bending down, put her hands -on the boy’s shoulders, looking him squarely in the face. - -“Tom, you didn’t mean that,” she said evenly. - -His eyes shifted and avoided her own, and she felt her heart leap with -sudden fear. - -“Well, I feel as if I could, anyway,” he answered, sullenly. “And you -wouldn’t be sorry—deep down in your heart.” - -“Tom, you can’t talk this way. I won’t listen. Don’t you understand—I -won’t listen.” - -She pulled her chair close beside him. He put his arm about her -shoulders and drew her to him hungrily. - -“Tom, why were you going to Vailstown tonight?” she asked again, when -he had released her. - -“I—I—” He seemed to make a sudden decision. “I wasn’t going to tell -you, Beth, till I was sure.” He met her searching gaze squarely. “I -think I’ve struck it, Beth—over there on Cedar Creek. It looks -good—pans richer than anything around the Gulch. I wanted to get it -recorded in Vailstown tonight. Then, if everything was all right, I -was going to phone you.” - -His face was flushed and eager now, and very boyish. She leaned -forward and kissed him. - -“I’m so glad. Tom. At last—you deserve it. You’ve worked hard.” - -“I think I’ve got it, Beth—got it for you, just like I said I would.” - -Beth rose, and went to the window. “Its clouding over,” she said. -“We’ll have snow by morning.” - -She came back to the fireside, and glancing at his bandaged ankle, -smiled. “You’ll have to stay here tonight. In the morning I’ll walk -over to Simpson’s—it’s only three miles back around Sugar Loaf—and get -you a horse. You can make it to Vailstown then.” - -A faint, distant sound outside made them look at each other in sudden -alarm. They listened. It grew louder—a horse coming along the trail -from Rocky Gulch at a gallop. Beth thought of her stepfather, perhaps -returning unexpectedly—to find Tom here with her. In the silence she -could hear again the lonely howl of the wolf on Sugar Loaf—a sound -immeasurably mournful, very much like the desolate, silent mountains -themselves. - -She rose to her feet, trembling. The sound of the horseman approaching -grew steadily louder. Then her glance fell upon the little tin clock -over the fireplace. She smiled with the relief of sudden -comprehension. - -“Nine o’clock, Tom. I’d forgotten. It’s only the mail rider for -Vailstown.” - -She went to the window. “It’s snowing, Tom,” she added. - -Tom was sitting up in his chair, tense. She wondered vaguely why he -did not seem relieved at her words. - -“It _is_ the mail,” she cried, after a moment. She opened the door a -little and stood looking out. - -The boy started from his chair, standing upon his injured ankle -without thought of it. “He may stop, Beth. He mustn’t see me here. It -wouldn’t look right, don’t you see—it—” - -She wheeled on him sharply. “He isn’t going to stop,” she said. Then -she flung the door wide open and stepping outside, waved her hand to -the passing rider on the trail below. - -“Sit down, Tom.” She came back into the room and closed the door. “You -mustn’t stand on that ankle.” - -He sank back into the chair, his face white. “God!” he exclaimed, “I -shouldn’t be up here with you alone tonight after—after what—” - -Beth sat down again beside him. The thoughts that came to her mind -frightened her. She tried to dispel them, but couldn’t. She put her -hand upon his arm. - -“I’m glad you’ve struck it, Tom,” she said. “I knew you would. And -some time—” - -“I’m going to have you for my wife,” he finished. “And take you back -East, maybe, where you belong.” - -Suddenly he flung his arms about her again and kissed her upon the -lips roughly. “It’s the right thing—the right thing, Beth.” He -repeated the words a little bitterly. - -She disengaged herself gently. - -“You say ‘the right thing,’ Tom,” she returned quietly, “and you mean -to be cynical. Because I’ve said that to you sometimes—and—you never -quite understood, did you?” - -“But why shouldn’t you marry me if we love each other?” he protested -again. - -He had never understood, of course. And hadn’t he the right to -understand? - -“I’ll tell you what I meant, Tom—what you have never understood—never -realized.” Her face was very earnest, very serious. “You say my -stepfather is—is no good. Well, you’re right. He is no good as the -world judges those things—and maybe as God judges them, too. But he’s -the man my mother loved—there’s no getting away from that, Tom—she -loved him; and she died loving him, and with the whisper on her lips -telling me to help him and care for him as long as he lived.” She -laughed—a curious little laugh that seemed to catch in her throat. - -“I never told you that, did I, Tom? I was only fourteen then—but that -day, talking there with mother, I thought out my creed—my religion. To -do the right thing always. Tom—that’s it—that’s all there is to it. -Not the thing that may look best for me at the time or even right for -me—but the just thing—the right thing in the eyes of God.” - -Her delicate little face grew wistful with the memories the words -evoked. She had never spoken to Tom—or to any one—like this before. -She had hardly realized until now as she put it into words, how much -this simple creed of hers had come to mean to her—how unconsciously -she had used it as her guiding star, through all these dreary, -mournful years that followed her mother’s death. - -She had been unhappy, she knew; and yet not unhappy, either, since -happiness came with the knowledge that she was doing the right thing. - -And then Tom had come—Tom with his love that had awakened hers, with -the promised fulfilment of all her girlish dreams. It was hard for -Tom—hard for her, too, when now the right thing made them deny love. -But still, she had gone on trusting—hoping, blindly hoping—just -waiting for God to work it out in His own way—the way that would be -right for them all. And she was sorry now—and a little frightened—that -she had never let Tom understand. - -Her eyes were dim and soft with tenderness as she leaned forward -toward him. - -“_That_ you can understand, Tom. It’s very simple, isn’t it? And don’t -you see, that’s just what father never has done. It has always been -the right thing as he saw it, yes—but the right thing for -himself—always the right thing for himself. - -“And somehow, Tom, it doesn’t seem to work out, when you only figure -the right thing for yourself. I don’t just mean that it hurts or -sacrifices others—but somehow, some way, it don’t work out for -you—yourself. It looks all right—you can’t see why it isn’t all right. -But there’s something working against it—some law of nature—or God -maybe—or something—and it just don’t work out. I believe that, Tom—I -believe it absolutely—and—and no matter how hard it is, I’m trying to -live up to it. I promised mother that.” - -Tom moistened his dry lips. “Then so long as he lives you—you—” - -She put her hand over his mouth. - -“Don’t, Tom, don’t. It isn’t only that way—it’s in everything. The -right thing always—even if it looks wrong and bad for me. And I -believe in the end it will work out best—something we don’t understand -will make it work out.” - -Suddenly she slipped from her chair onto his lap, with her arms about -him, her head on his shoulder. - -“But I do love you, Tom, so very, very much.” All the yearning -tenderness of love was in her voice. “I do want to be your wife—some -day—when it’s the right thing to do.” - -The telephone bell rang, startlingly loud in the silence of the little -cabin. Beth pulled away from the boy and rose to her feet. That -nameless apprehension—the vague presentiment she had felt before—came -back to her now as she stood looking at the instrument, hesitating. -The ring was repeated—a slightly different call this time, abruptly -stilled. - -“What is it, Beth? Is it for us?” The telephone was silent now. - -She lifted the receiver. A voice in conversation sounded in her ear; -instinctively she did not speak, but listened with an eager attention. - -“Dead,” said the voice, “lying there dead, with marks on his -throat—murder, all right.” - -The little cabin room went suddenly black for Beth. The noise of the -brook down by the trail seemed roaring in her ears; out beyond she -heard the wolf still howling. She knew she must not faint—whispered it -bravely, despairingly to herself. - -“Beth! Beth, what is it?” The boy had started to his feet. - -At the sound of his voice her head suddenly cleared. She let go of the -telephone box she had clutched for support, and raised her hand in -warning for silence. The voice in her ear was still sounding. She -recognized the voice now—the sheriff of Rocky Gulch. - -“—hell of a scrap this afternoon,” the voice was saying. “It’s him all -right—only circumstantial evidence, but damn strong. And he’s gone—you -know him—Tom Hawley—that slim young feller from the East over at -Ransome’s.” - -The man in Vailstown made some answer. - -“You send some men down the trail,” the sheriff went on. “He might -come along any time. Probably won’t. And phone Centerville—or whatever -else you think best. You’ll hear from me later-morning probably. I -gotta ride way over now and tell his daughter—I dassent phone her, -with her all alone out there. Hell of a job, too. Then in the morning -we’ll get busy right.” - -Again the man in Vailstown spoke—some question this time about -One-Eyed Charlie—and the conversation then continued. - -But Beth heard no more. The shock of this abrupt news of her -stepfather’s death, and then the suggestion of murder—murder done by -Tom Hawley, the man she loved—the man whose wife some day she wanted -to be—all whirled through her confused brain. - -Tom Hawley, standing there now by the fireplace watching her -wonderingly—Tom Hawley was a murderer? - -The shock of it caused a sudden revulsion in the girl’s heart. Her -fingers gripped the little revolver that lay in her apron pocket. The -sheriff’s voice was still sounding in her ear; her lips were at the -mouthpiece—she had only to speak to give Tom up—a murderer whom the -law demanded. - -And then something within her—some tiny voice of nature—whispered to -the girl that she loved Tom Hawley. And that he had thought it was the -right thing to do—only because he loved her—because he wanted her for -his wife—wanted to make her happy. If she gave him up he might be -sentenced and hung. The man she loved, to be killed by the law. - -The right thing! The words of her creed came back to her. Which was -the right thing now? Her tired brain groped at the question wearily. -The right thing! The words she had said to Tom flashed through her -mind: “Not the thing that may look best for me, but the right thing in -the eyes of God. And something—some law we don’t understand—will make -it work out all right.” - -Beth dropped the telephone receiver to the end of its dangling cord -and put her hand over the mouthpiece. Then she whirled to face the boy -who still stood watching her expectantly. - -“They’ve found it out, Tom.” Her voice came low, but vibrant and -tense. In the hand she held outstretched a bit of polished steel -glistened in the lamplight. “They know it’s you.” - -At sight of the revolver she pointed at him the boy started forward. -Amazement, incredulity were on his face. - -“Beth! Why, Beth, what—” - -“We’re going to do the right thing, Tom—the right thing in the eyes of -God.” - -He was hobbling forward, and her voice rose suddenly: - -“Tom—Tom Hawley. Don’t you hear me? Don’t you understand?” She waved -the revolver toward the wall nearer the telephone. “Stand over -there—over there against the wall. No, I mean it”—as he continued -coming forward. “Not a word now, Tom, or I’ll shoot. Don’t you -understand? Can’t you see I mean it?” she ended almost with a sob. - -The boy hesitated; stared into her gleaming eyes an instant, and then -drew himself up against the wall, silent. Holding the revolver -leveled, Beth took her hand from the mouthpiece and lifted the -receiver again to her ear. The sheriff was still speaking in the -phone. - -“This is Beth—Beth Rollins,” she interrupted. Her voice sounded almost -casual. She heard the sheriff’s gasp of astonishment, his profane -exclamation, and went on evenly: - -“I’ve been listening, Sheriff Williams. I—you’re looking for Tom -Hawley—well, he’s here—here with me now. He’s—he’s going to stay here -until you come.” She waited through an instant of silence, and then -the sheriff’s voice said with seeming contrition: - -“I’m mighty sorry, Miss Beth. I was coming over to see you tonight—I -clean forgot you were on this line in the excitement. Your -stepfather—he—” - -She interrupted his awkward, embarrassed explanation. Her brain was -whirling; the room was dim to her sight, with only the boy’s white -face and his questioning eyes watching her, standing out clear and -sharp. - -“Tom Hawley’s here with me,” she heard her own voice repeating. -“He—he’ll wait for you here.” - -And then the sheriff’s voice said: - -“Hell, ma’m, your stepfather—it didn’t happen only a few minutes ago. -If Tom Hawley’s there with you now that’s all the alibi I want—it’s a -cinch he wasn’t here. I’m mighty glad you happened to tell me tonight, -Miss Beth, or it would of gone hard for him. You let me speak with -him, ma’m, if he’s there—it must have been One-Eyed Charlie did it.” - - (The End.) - - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the March 27, 1920 issue -of The Argosy magazine] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIGHT THING *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our website which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This website includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/old/67288-0.zip b/old/67288-0.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 7eeff21..0000000 --- a/old/67288-0.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67288-h.zip b/old/67288-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f080a5f..0000000 --- a/old/67288-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/67288-h/67288-h.htm b/old/67288-h/67288-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index c415f0c..0000000 --- a/old/67288-h/67288-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1018 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta charset="UTF-8" /> - <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Right Thing, by Ray Cummings</title> - <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover" /> - <style> - body { margin-left:8%; margin-right:8%; } - p { text-indent:1.15em; margin-top:0.1em; margin-bottom:0.1em; text-align:justify; } - div.section { page-break-before:always; margin-top:4em; margin-bottom:4em; } - .ce { text-align:center; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; } - .w001 { margin-left:12%; width:75% } - .x-ebookmaker .w001 { margin-left:17%; width:65% } - .mt01 { margin-top:1em; } - .mb01 { margin-bottom:1em; } - h1 { text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.4em; margin-top:1em; } - .tn { font-size:0.9em; border:1px solid silver; margin-bottom:2em; margin-top:1.8em; margin-left:8%; width:80%; padding:0.4em 2%; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Right Thing, by Ray Cummings</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Right Thing</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Ray Cummings</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 31, 2022 [eBook #67288]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIGHT THING ***</div> - -<div class='section'> - -<div class='ce'> -<h1 style='margin-bottom:0em;'>The Right Thing </h1> -<div style='font-size:1.1em;margin-bottom:2em;'>By Ray Cummings </div> -</div> -<div id='001' class='mt01 mb01 w001'> - <img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -</div> -</div> -<p>The girl stood quiet in the cabin doorway looking out at the -brilliant, frosty night. Over Sugar Loaf the cold, glittering moon -shone full; the big fir on its summit stood stark and black against -the vivid blue of the star-studded sky behind, like a giant sentinel -watching over the silent valley.</p> - -<p>Below her, at the bottom of the little pass, the winding trail with -its single strand of telephone wire beside it, showed plainly in the -moonlight. Up the mountain a wolf began howling. The girl turned back -into the cabin abruptly and closed the door behind her.</p> - -<p>The supper she had been preparing was almost ready. The little board -table near the fireplace was set for one; over in a corner from a -large, wood-burning stove came the odor of steaming coffee.</p> - -<p>The girl put a lighted kerosene lamp upon the table and served herself -with a single plateful of food from the frying-pan. Once she stood -still, listening, but only the muffled noise of the brook and the lone -wolf baying broke the silence. For a brief instant her glance rested -on the telephone instrument fastened to the wall beside the fireplace; -then, as though reassured, she sat down and began her solitary meal.</p> - -<p>A knock upon the door made her leap to her feet and stand for an -instant trembling. She put her hand into the pocket of her gingham -apron, her fingers gripping a little revolver that lay there. The -knock was repeated. The girl withdrew her hand—empty—and with a -trembling smile that seemed to belittle her fear, she crossed the room -swiftly and flung open the door.</p> - -<p>A man stood on the threshold—a slim young man in a short heavy coat, -blue flannel shirt, corduroy trousers, and neat, incongruous leather -puttees. He was bareheaded. He stood wavering with a hand against the -doorway to steady himself, all his weight on one foot and the toe of -the other just touching the ground.</p> - -<p>“You!” cried the girl. Her tone held amazement, but it was tender, -too, with love. Then as she saw the pallor of his face in the -lamplight, and his lips pressed together in a thin straight line of -pain, she cried again:</p> - -<p>“Tom, you’re hurt!”</p> - -<p>Her arms went around him, and leaning heavily on her, he hobbled -across the room. The pain made him moan, and he sank back in the chair -and closed his eyes. The girl knelt on the floor beside him, and began -gently to unstrap one of his puttees. After a moment he seemed to -recover a little. He sat up and wiped the sweat of weakness from his -forehead with his coat sleeve.</p> - -<p>“I know I shouldn’t have stopped, Beth, but I—I knew you were alone -tonight.” For an instant the drawn lines of pain left his face; his -eyes looked into the girl’s tenderly.</p> - -<p>Beth looked up into his face, brushing back a wisp of hair that had -fallen forward over her eyes. That he had come here frightened her. -But she was glad that he had come, and the sight of his pale face with -the look of pain on it made her eyes fill with tears of love and -sympathy.</p> - -<p>“What happened, Tom?” she asked.</p> - -<p>The boy shook himself together. “I wouldn’t have stopped, honest, -Beth—only my horse threw me—a mile back toward Rocky Gulch.” He winced -as the girl withdrew the puttee and began unlacing his shoe.</p> - -<p>“Only sprained, I guess,” he added. “But it hurts like the devil—and -I’m bruised all over from the fall.” He laughed a little in boyish -apology for showing his pain to a girl.</p> - -<p>“It was about an hour ago. I wasn’t going to stop—I wanted to get to -Vailstown tonight. The horse shied at something, and bolted, and left -me lying there. I don’t know—I guess I’m a rotten rider.” He grinned -sheepishly.</p> - -<p>He had come to her! Of course, it was all he could do then, without a -horse and with a sprained ankle at night on the Vailstown road. At the -thought of having him here with her when he was hurt and needed her -help, the girl’s heart grew very loving and tender.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been an hour coming,” he went on quietly—he brushed her hair -lightly with his fingers and smiled—“and now I’m here, Beth, I’m—I’m -sort of glad the accident happened.”</p> - -<p>She made no answer, but went on taking off his shoe and the heavy -woolen sock; his ankle was red and swollen. She raised his foot to a -low wooden bench, and he watched her silently while she filled a pail -with hot water. Then he noticed the food on the table.</p> - -<p>“Finish eating, Beth,” he said. “This can wait—it doesn’t hurt much -when I hold it still.”</p> - -<p>Again she did not reply, but held his foot and ankle in the water a -moment, and then, wrapping it in an improvised bandage, replaced the -sock. She was very tender and gentle. Once the boy made as if to kiss -her, but she pulled away, effectually but without resentment. -Wonderment was in his eyes as he followed her swift, deft movements.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you say something, Beth?” he asked after a moment. “What’s -the matter with you?”</p> - -<p>“Now you can eat with me,” she said. She had made him as comfortable -as possible, and returned to the stove.</p> - -<p>He took the plate of food she handed him. “I know I shouldn’t have -stopped, Beth—but I couldn’t do anything else, could I?”</p> - -<p>“How did you know I was alone?” She knew what he was going to answer, -and it frightened her.</p> - -<p>“I saw your stepfather in Rocky Gulch this afternoon—no, wait, listen -Beth—I’d tell you, wouldn’t I, if anything had happened?”</p> - -<p>He went on impetuously, as though to dispel her rising fear.</p> - -<p>“He was drunk, Beth, and he’s too old a man. Look at that”—he clenched -his fist, and the muscles of his bared forearm rose up in knots—“I -could have twisted his neck with that for what he said about me and -you. But I promised I wouldn’t lift a hand to him, and I didn’t, no -matter what he said. I didn’t mean to meet him—and then—when he said -what he did I—well, I just listened and beat it, that’s all.”</p> - -<p>The boy shoved his food away from him untouched, and looked across the -table to meet Beth’s frightened eyes.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you worry, kid,” he added reassuringly, “I won’t hurt him, and -he can’t hurt me—except with his gun.” The girl shuddered, and he -hastened to add:</p> - -<p>“He wouldn’t do that, Beth. Don’t you think it for a minute! Even when -he’s drunk he wouldn’t do that—he’s too much of a coward—he knows he’d -swing for it.”</p> - -<p>“He <i>said</i> he would, Tom.”</p> - -<p>“He said he would if I come up here again. I didn’t come, did I?”</p> - -<p>It was a month now since her stepfather in drunken rage had ordered -Tom from the house and threatened to shoot him if he ever came there -again. But after all, he had to come tonight, as things happened. And -her stepfather was away—the first time he had been away in months—and -he need never know that Tom had been here.</p> - -<p>“He won’t be back until tomorrow—you’ll be gone then,” said Beth, -voicing her thoughts.</p> - -<p>Her words seemed to rouse the boy to sudden anger. “Why should he -forbid my seeing you, anyway?” he went on, resentfully. “I love you, -Beth, and you love me. And I want to marry you!” His tone changed -abruptly. “You <i>do</i> love me, Beth?”</p> - -<p>He held out his arms appealingly, and in answer the girl rose silently -and kissed him. “You know that, Tom,” she said simply.</p> - -<p>“Then why do I have to sneak away like a thief? Just because we love -each other, what’s that he’s got against me?”</p> - -<p>“You know why he said it was, Tom.” She crossed the room again to -attend to the stove.</p> - -<p>“Because I haven’t got any money. I know—that’s what he said. But I’ve -got enough to keep you as well as he does—and better.” He glanced -around the cabin contemptuously. “You know that isn’t the reason. It’d -be the same, anyway—unless maybe I had a fortune and would give him -some of it.”</p> - -<p>Beth winced. It hurt, somehow, to have him say things like that. But -she knew it was true. And she knew, too, just how he felt—how he -resented the way he had been treated.</p> - -<p>“Besides, why shouldn’t I marry you?” the boy went on. “I’m from the -East, same as you. I’ve been to college—my family’s as good as -yours—for all his drunken talk—better than <i>his</i>, if you ask me. What -he wants is to get you a rich husband back East if he can’t stake a -big-paying claim out here. And I don’t fit into that scheme. That’s -what’s the matter, and you know it.”</p> - -<p>Beth laid the coffee cups on the table and sat down again, facing him.</p> - -<p>“You mustn’t talk that way, Tom,” she remonstrated. “You just mustn’t. -I won’t listen. I’ve told you that before. I can’t listen to such -things. Why were you going to Vailstown tonight?”</p> - -<p>He ignored her question. “Well, I’m right, and you know it. I love -you, and I’d make you happy. He’s the only thing in the way. So far as -your happiness is concerned, he’d be better off dead, and I wish he -was. Oh, I know it’s a rotten thing to say, but I do. Look at that.”</p> - -<p>He leaned forward suddenly, and gripped her by the shoulder, pulling -her toward him.</p> - -<p>“Your neck’s bruised black and blue. You think I don’t notice things -like that, don’t you? I know how he treats you when he’s crazy -drunk—and I’m the only one who does. And I can’t do anything about it -because you won’t let me.”</p> - -<p>“Tom—I—”</p> - -<p>“And because he’s your stepfather, you won’t let anybody say a word -against him. But you know he’s no good to himself, or anybody else. -He’d be better off dead, and you know it. Somebody’ll get him one of -these days, too—the way he acts down there at the Gulch when he’s -drunk—you wait and see. Some day they’ll find him lying in a gully or -something, where somebody’s pushed him. He hasn’t got a decent friend -in the world—only the bums are good enough for him. And that damn -One-Eyed Charlie he pals around with.”</p> - -<p>Beth sighed hopelessly.</p> - -<p>“Some day they’ll find him dead down there,” the boy went on. -“Charlie’ll do it, maybe—he’s a rattlesnake anyway. And when he talks -to me like he did today, and I see your neck horribly bruised the way -it is now, I feel as if I could do it myself, sometimes—if I had a -good chance.”</p> - -<p>His words shocked her, perhaps even more because some little -whispering devil inside said it would be better that way—better for -all three of them. She rose abruptly, and bending down, put her hands -on the boy’s shoulders, looking him squarely in the face.</p> - -<p>“Tom, you didn’t mean that,” she said evenly.</p> - -<p>His eyes shifted and avoided her own, and she felt her heart leap with -sudden fear.</p> - -<p>“Well, I feel as if I could, anyway,” he answered, sullenly. “And you -wouldn’t be sorry—deep down in your heart.”</p> - -<p>“Tom, you can’t talk this way. I won’t listen. Don’t you understand—I -won’t listen.”</p> - -<p>She pulled her chair close beside him. He put his arm about her -shoulders and drew her to him hungrily.</p> - -<p>“Tom, why were you going to Vailstown tonight?” she asked again, when -he had released her.</p> - -<p>“I—I—” He seemed to make a sudden decision. “I wasn’t going to tell -you, Beth, till I was sure.” He met her searching gaze squarely. “I -think I’ve struck it, Beth—over there on Cedar Creek. It looks -good—pans richer than anything around the Gulch. I wanted to get it -recorded in Vailstown tonight. Then, if everything was all right, I -was going to phone you.”</p> - -<p>His face was flushed and eager now, and very boyish. She leaned -forward and kissed him.</p> - -<p>“I’m so glad. Tom. At last—you deserve it. You’ve worked hard.”</p> - -<p>“I think I’ve got it, Beth—got it for you, just like I said I would.”</p> - -<p>Beth rose, and went to the window. “Its clouding over,” she said. -“We’ll have snow by morning.”</p> - -<p>She came back to the fireside, and glancing at his bandaged ankle, -smiled. “You’ll have to stay here tonight. In the morning I’ll walk -over to Simpson’s—it’s only three miles back around Sugar Loaf—and get -you a horse. You can make it to Vailstown then.”</p> - -<p>A faint, distant sound outside made them look at each other in sudden -alarm. They listened. It grew louder—a horse coming along the trail -from Rocky Gulch at a gallop. Beth thought of her stepfather, perhaps -returning unexpectedly—to find Tom here with her. In the silence she -could hear again the lonely howl of the wolf on Sugar Loaf—a sound -immeasurably mournful, very much like the desolate, silent mountains -themselves.</p> - -<p>She rose to her feet, trembling. The sound of the horseman approaching -grew steadily louder. Then her glance fell upon the little tin clock -over the fireplace. She smiled with the relief of sudden -comprehension.</p> - -<p>“Nine o’clock, Tom. I’d forgotten. It’s only the mail rider for -Vailstown.”</p> - -<p>She went to the window. “It’s snowing, Tom,” she added.</p> - -<p>Tom was sitting up in his chair, tense. She wondered vaguely why he -did not seem relieved at her words.</p> - -<p>“It <i>is</i> the mail,” she cried, after a moment. She opened the door a -little and stood looking out.</p> - -<p>The boy started from his chair, standing upon his injured ankle -without thought of it. “He may stop, Beth. He mustn’t see me here. It -wouldn’t look right, don’t you see—it—”</p> - -<p>She wheeled on him sharply. “He isn’t going to stop,” she said. Then -she flung the door wide open and stepping outside, waved her hand to -the passing rider on the trail below.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, Tom.” She came back into the room and closed the door. “You -mustn’t stand on that ankle.”</p> - -<p>He sank back into the chair, his face white. “God!” he exclaimed, “I -shouldn’t be up here with you alone tonight after—after what—”</p> - -<p>Beth sat down again beside him. The thoughts that came to her mind -frightened her. She tried to dispel them, but couldn’t. She put her -hand upon his arm.</p> - -<p>“I’m glad you’ve struck it, Tom,” she said. “I knew you would. And -some time—”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to have you for my wife,” he finished. “And take you back -East, maybe, where you belong.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly he flung his arms about her again and kissed her upon the -lips roughly. “It’s the right thing—the right thing, Beth.” He -repeated the words a little bitterly.</p> - -<p>She disengaged herself gently.</p> - -<p>“You say ‘the right thing,’ Tom,” she returned quietly, “and you mean -to be cynical. Because I’ve said that to you sometimes—and—you never -quite understood, did you?”</p> - -<p>“But why shouldn’t you marry me if we love each other?” he protested -again.</p> - -<p>He had never understood, of course. And hadn’t he the right to -understand?</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you what I meant, Tom—what you have never understood—never -realized.” Her face was very earnest, very serious. “You say my -stepfather is—is no good. Well, you’re right. He is no good as the -world judges those things—and maybe as God judges them, too. But he’s -the man my mother loved—there’s no getting away from that, Tom—she -loved him; and she died loving him, and with the whisper on her lips -telling me to help him and care for him as long as he lived.” She -laughed—a curious little laugh that seemed to catch in her throat.</p> - -<p>“I never told you that, did I, Tom? I was only fourteen then—but that -day, talking there with mother, I thought out my creed—my religion. To -do the right thing always. Tom—that’s it—that’s all there is to it. -Not the thing that may look best for me at the time or even right for -me—but the just thing—the right thing in the eyes of God.”</p> - -<p>Her delicate little face grew wistful with the memories the words -evoked. She had never spoken to Tom—or to any one—like this before. -She had hardly realized until now as she put it into words, how much -this simple creed of hers had come to mean to her—how unconsciously -she had used it as her guiding star, through all these dreary, -mournful years that followed her mother’s death.</p> - -<p>She had been unhappy, she knew; and yet not unhappy, either, since -happiness came with the knowledge that she was doing the right thing.</p> - -<p>And then Tom had come—Tom with his love that had awakened hers, with -the promised fulfilment of all her girlish dreams. It was hard for -Tom—hard for her, too, when now the right thing made them deny love. -But still, she had gone on trusting—hoping, blindly hoping—just -waiting for God to work it out in His own way—the way that would be -right for them all. And she was sorry now—and a little frightened—that -she had never let Tom understand.</p> - -<p>Her eyes were dim and soft with tenderness as she leaned forward -toward him.</p> - -<p>“<i>That</i> you can understand, Tom. It’s very simple, isn’t it? And don’t -you see, that’s just what father never has done. It has always been -the right thing as he saw it, yes—but the right thing for -himself—always the right thing for himself.</p> - -<p>“And somehow, Tom, it doesn’t seem to work out, when you only figure -the right thing for yourself. I don’t just mean that it hurts or -sacrifices others—but somehow, some way, it don’t work out for -you—yourself. It looks all right—you can’t see why it isn’t all right. -But there’s something working against it—some law of nature—or God -maybe—or something—and it just don’t work out. I believe that, Tom—I -believe it absolutely—and—and no matter how hard it is, I’m trying to -live up to it. I promised mother that.”</p> - -<p>Tom moistened his dry lips. “Then so long as he lives you—you—”</p> - -<p>She put her hand over his mouth.</p> - -<p>“Don’t, Tom, don’t. It isn’t only that way—it’s in everything. The -right thing always—even if it looks wrong and bad for me. And I -believe in the end it will work out best—something we don’t understand -will make it work out.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly she slipped from her chair onto his lap, with her arms about -him, her head on his shoulder.</p> - -<p>“But I do love you, Tom, so very, very much.” All the yearning -tenderness of love was in her voice. “I do want to be your wife—some -day—when it’s the right thing to do.”</p> - -<p>The telephone bell rang, startlingly loud in the silence of the little -cabin. Beth pulled away from the boy and rose to her feet. That -nameless apprehension—the vague presentiment she had felt before—came -back to her now as she stood looking at the instrument, hesitating. -The ring was repeated—a slightly different call this time, abruptly -stilled.</p> - -<p>“What is it, Beth? Is it for us?” The telephone was silent now.</p> - -<p>She lifted the receiver. A voice in conversation sounded in her ear; -instinctively she did not speak, but listened with an eager attention.</p> - -<p>“Dead,” said the voice, “lying there dead, with marks on his -throat—murder, all right.”</p> - -<p>The little cabin room went suddenly black for Beth. The noise of the -brook down by the trail seemed roaring in her ears; out beyond she -heard the wolf still howling. She knew she must not faint—whispered it -bravely, despairingly to herself.</p> - -<p>“Beth! Beth, what is it?” The boy had started to his feet.</p> - -<p>At the sound of his voice her head suddenly cleared. She let go of the -telephone box she had clutched for support, and raised her hand in -warning for silence. The voice in her ear was still sounding. She -recognized the voice now—the sheriff of Rocky Gulch.</p> - -<p>“—hell of a scrap this afternoon,” the voice was saying. “It’s him all -right—only circumstantial evidence, but damn strong. And he’s gone—you -know him—Tom Hawley—that slim young feller from the East over at -Ransome’s.”</p> - -<p>The man in Vailstown made some answer.</p> - -<p>“You send some men down the trail,” the sheriff went on. “He might -come along any time. Probably won’t. And phone Centerville—or whatever -else you think best. You’ll hear from me later-morning probably. I -gotta ride way over now and tell his daughter—I dassent phone her, -with her all alone out there. Hell of a job, too. Then in the morning -we’ll get busy right.”</p> - -<p>Again the man in Vailstown spoke—some question this time about -One-Eyed Charlie—and the conversation then continued.</p> - -<p>But Beth heard no more. The shock of this abrupt news of her -stepfather’s death, and then the suggestion of murder—murder done by -Tom Hawley, the man she loved—the man whose wife some day she wanted -to be—all whirled through her confused brain.</p> - -<p>Tom Hawley, standing there now by the fireplace watching her -wonderingly—Tom Hawley was a murderer?</p> - -<p>The shock of it caused a sudden revulsion in the girl’s heart. Her -fingers gripped the little revolver that lay in her apron pocket. The -sheriff’s voice was still sounding in her ear; her lips were at the -mouthpiece—she had only to speak to give Tom up—a murderer whom the -law demanded.</p> - -<p>And then something within her—some tiny voice of nature—whispered to -the girl that she loved Tom Hawley. And that he had thought it was the -right thing to do—only because he loved her—because he wanted her for -his wife—wanted to make her happy. If she gave him up he might be -sentenced and hung. The man she loved, to be killed by the law.</p> - -<p>The right thing! The words of her creed came back to her. Which was -the right thing now? Her tired brain groped at the question wearily. -The right thing! The words she had said to Tom flashed through her -mind: “Not the thing that may look best for me, but the right thing in -the eyes of God. And something—some law we don’t understand—will make -it work out all right.”</p> - -<p>Beth dropped the telephone receiver to the end of its dangling cord -and put her hand over the mouthpiece. Then she whirled to face the boy -who still stood watching her expectantly.</p> - -<p>“They’ve found it out, Tom.” Her voice came low, but vibrant and -tense. In the hand she held outstretched a bit of polished steel -glistened in the lamplight. “They know it’s you.”</p> - -<p>At sight of the revolver she pointed at him the boy started forward. -Amazement, incredulity were on his face.</p> - -<p>“Beth! Why, Beth, what—”</p> - -<p>“We’re going to do the right thing, Tom—the right thing in the eyes of -God.”</p> - -<p>He was hobbling forward, and her voice rose suddenly:</p> - -<p>“Tom—Tom Hawley. Don’t you hear me? Don’t you understand?” She waved -the revolver toward the wall nearer the telephone. “Stand over -there—over there against the wall. No, I mean it”—as he continued -coming forward. “Not a word now, Tom, or I’ll shoot. Don’t you -understand? Can’t you see I mean it?” she ended almost with a sob.</p> - -<p>The boy hesitated; stared into her gleaming eyes an instant, and then -drew himself up against the wall, silent. Holding the revolver -leveled, Beth took her hand from the mouthpiece and lifted the -receiver again to her ear. The sheriff was still speaking in the -phone.</p> - -<p>“This is Beth—Beth Rollins,” she interrupted. Her voice sounded almost -casual. She heard the sheriff’s gasp of astonishment, his profane -exclamation, and went on evenly:</p> - -<p>“I’ve been listening, Sheriff Williams. I—you’re looking for Tom -Hawley—well, he’s here—here with me now. He’s—he’s going to stay here -until you come.” She waited through an instant of silence, and then -the sheriff’s voice said with seeming contrition:</p> - -<p>“I’m mighty sorry, Miss Beth. I was coming over to see you tonight—I -clean forgot you were on this line in the excitement. Your -stepfather—he—”</p> - -<p>She interrupted his awkward, embarrassed explanation. Her brain was -whirling; the room was dim to her sight, with only the boy’s white -face and his questioning eyes watching her, standing out clear and -sharp.</p> - -<p>“Tom Hawley’s here with me,” she heard her own voice repeating. -“He—he’ll wait for you here.”</p> - -<p>And then the sheriff’s voice said:</p> - -<p>“Hell, ma’m, your stepfather—it didn’t happen only a few minutes ago. -If Tom Hawley’s there with you now that’s all the alibi I want—it’s a -cinch he wasn’t here. I’m mighty glad you happened to tell me tonight, -Miss Beth, or it would of gone hard for him. You let me speak with -him, ma’m, if he’s there—it must have been One-Eyed Charlie did it.”</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div style='font-size:0.8em;'>(The End.) </div> -</div> -<div class="tn"> - <p style='text-indent:0'>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in - the March 27, 1920 issue of <i>The Argosy</i> magazine.</p> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RIGHT THING ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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