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Thar's something within a man that needs more'n the mountains an' the wonderful things around him. But, thar, I must see what Curly's doin'. He may be up to some more mischief." Although Reynolds was much interested in the scenery and in listening to the philosophy of the old prospector, yet his mind turned continually to Glen, for it was by that name he now thought of her.
Into this was fitted an iron ring with which to lift it. From the darkness below came no sound, but Curly's imagination conceived the place as full of shining eyes glaring up at him. Any bad men down there already had the drop on them. Therefore neither Curly nor his uncle made the mistake of drawing a weapon. "I'm coming down, boys," young Flandrau announced in a quiet confident voice.
They argued it out, but Curly was set and could not be moved. He dressed in young Cullison's clothes and with Maloney took the express at 9:57. Davis remained to guard Sam. Curly's watch showed 10:17 when the wheels began to grind from the setting of the air brakes. He was in the last sleeper, Dick in the day coach near the front.
What do you want of so many drugs, anyhow?" "Hush, fellers," said Curly. "Listen a minute!" Curly's ears had detected the rattle of distant wagon wheels. "That's Tom comin' now," said he. "He's a heap more regular than the Socorro stage. That's him, because I can hear him singin'." "Tom, he's stuck on music," said McKinney.
I taken the piece of paper from his hand when he didn't see me. I'm a thief. I've broken your heart and Curly's and Tom's. I'm the wickedest girl in the world; and I'll never ask your forgiveness, for I don't deserve it. You must not look for me any more. I'm going away. Good-by! Well, that was all. The letter had been all over wet and a man can't cry.
We were in the act of raising our rifles to down it, whatever it might be, when Thornton sang out, "Hold on, boys; that's old Tomas!" And, indeed, so it proved. All had been awakened at the first alarm, and Thornton had seen Tomas roll from his blankets into the bottom of the east channel, and crawl away on the scout for the cause of Curly's uneasiness that so nearly had cost him his life.
Curly the tramp sidled toward the free-lunch counter. He caught a fleeting glance from the bartender's eye, and stood still, trying to look like a business man who had just dined at the Menger and was waiting for a friend who had promised to pick him up in his motor car. Curly's histrionic powers were equal to the impersonation; but his make-up was wanting.
"Dad, you've been drinking!" burst out Constance as her father met her at the door of Curly's house. She had heard footsteps, and hastened to meet the visitor. Perhaps it was disappointment, perhaps indignation with herself that she had listened, that she had waited, which caused her to greet her parent with such asperity. "You wrong me, daughter!" protested Mr.
"I have no fear now of any danger lurking within those dark shadows, such as I had the last time we were here." "And were you fearful then?" Reynolds asked. "Indeed I was, for I thought Curly might be lurking around. He was here that day, and I do not mind confessing it now." She then briefly told of Curly's visit, and how she had guarded him until Sconda arrived.
The sound broke into a rattling rumble. There came across the still, keen night a wild, thin, high, shrilling yell, product of many voices. "It's the Bar O outfit, from the Brazos, coming in," said some one. The crowd pressed out into the air. It opened and melted slightly. The crowd at Curly's shanty increased slightly, silently. Inside, Curly and his friend still played cards.
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