|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from The Spirit of the Border by Zane Grey: tightly over the wound, while bright red blood trickled between his fingers,
flowed down his side, and stained the grass.
The brave looked steadily up at Joe. Shot as he was, dying as he knew himself
to be, there was no yielding in the dark eye--only an unquenchable hatred.
Then the eyes glazed; the fingers ceased twitching.
Joe was bending over a dead Indian.
It flashed into his mind, of course, that Wetzel had come up in time to save
his life, but he did not dwell on the thought; he shrank from this violent
death of a human being. But it was from the aspect of the dead, not from
remorse for the deed. His heart beat fast, his fingers trembled, yet he felt
only a strange coldness in all his being. The savage had tried to kill him,
 The Spirit of the Border |