United States or Sierra Leone ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Suppose it was not with her a question of his property, after all; it was a poor time to think of marrying him for his property when all Quien Sabe hung in the issue of the next few months. Suppose she had been sincere. But he caught himself up. Was he to be fooled by a feemale girl at this late date? He, Buck Annixter, crafty, hard-headed, a man of affairs? Not much.
Now it was no longer a spot, but a column, a column that moved, accompanied by spots. As Annixter lessened the distance, these spots resolved themselves into buggies or men on horseback that kept pace with the advancing column. There were horses in the column itself.
Annixter moved about awkwardly where he sat, smoothing down with his hand the one stiff lock of yellow hair that persistently stood up from his crown like an Indian's scalp-lock. At once his suspicions were all aroused. Ah! this feemale woman was trying to get a hold on him, trying to involve him in a petticoat mess, trying to cajole him.
"Ah, yes, that sounds well," Annixter contradicted, unwilling to be convinced. "In a way, the land's been rested, and then, again, in a way, it hasn't." But Presley, scenting an argument, refrained from answering, and bethought himself of moving on. "I'm going to leave my wheel here for a while, Buck," he said, "if you don't mind.
"Oh, as to pledges," murmured Broderson, "the railroad is not always TOO much hindered by those." "Where's Osterman?" demanded Annixter, abruptly changing the subject as if it were not worth discussion. "Isn't that goat Osterman coming down here to-night?" "You telephoned him, didn't you, Presley?" inquired Magnus.
"Nobody's ready yet. You're hours ahead of time." Presley came into the bedroom, his huge spur clinking on the straw matting. Annixter was without coat, vest or collar, his blue silk suspenders hung in loops over either hip, his hair was disordered, the crown lock stiffer than ever. "Glad to see you, old boy," he announced, as Presley came in. "No, don't shake hands, I'm all lather.
"I don't think, however, he has moved yet," said Magnus. "The thing for us, then," exclaimed Osterman, "is to stand from under before he does." "Moved yet!" snorted Annixter. "He's probably moved so long ago that we've never noticed it." "In any case," hazarded Magnus, "it is scarcely probable that the deal whatever it is to be has been consummated. If we act quickly, there may be a chance."
"Why is it," he observed, "that as soon as a man is about to get married, he buys himself pale blue suspenders, silk ones? Think of it. You, Buck Annixter, with sky-blue, silk suspenders. It ought to be a strap and a nail." "Old fool," observed Annixter, whose repartee was the heaving of brick bats.
"What's this case here?" asked Annixter, when, after helping his wife from the carry-all, his eye fell upon a wooden box of some three by five feet that stood on the porch and bore the red Wells-Fargo label. "It came here last night, addressed to you, sir," exclaimed Mrs. Vacca. "We were sure it wasn't any of your furniture, so we didn't open it."
The others surrounded him. "I saw them," he cried. "They are coming this way. S. Behrman and Ruggles are in a two-horse buggy. All the others are on horseback. There are eleven of them. Christian and Delaney are with them. Those two have rifles. I left Hooven watching them." "Better call in Gethings and Cutter right away," said Annixter. "We'll need all our men."
Word Of The Day