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Beebe an' me thinks a sight o' you, an' that you're a-comin' out here to spend the day just as soon as Ab'm goes. Now remember." "Yes'm, I will," said Joel, twisting up his bag. "An' I'll come, Mrs. Beebe, if Mamsie'll let me." "An' take care the things don't fall out," warned Mrs. Beebe. Joel gave the bag another twist, and gripped it fast.
"Yes," said Polly, thoughtfully; "would you have 'em all like that, Joe?" "Every one," replied Joe, promptly; "I'd have seventy-five of 'em." "Seventy-five what?" asked Mrs. Pepper, who had gone into the bedroom, and now came out, a coat in hand, to sit down in the west window, where she began to sew rapidly. "Better clear up the dishes, Polly, and set the table back seventy-five what, Joel?"
There were so many things to do in school. She was thankful, however, that she was not like big, fat Joel Davis across the aisle there, who spat on his slate and rubbed it with his sleeve. It was his action, one which Miss Hillary characterized as disgusting and unsanitary, that had called forth the little talk.
But there they were, old Joel, sitting in his cart, bowing to me civilly with timid, sad, friendly eyes, as much alive as I was, and the dead man, with his limp head and arms and his toes turned in, hanging in mid-air. "I rode up under the dangling body and cut at it with my switch. At the motion my horse bolted. He ran fully a mile before I could pursue him in.
Joel started gingerly up to meet him. The field was streaming down on Cloud's heels, but too far away to be in the running. Ten yards distant from Joel, Cloud's right arm stretched out to ward off a tackle, and his face grew ugly. "Keep off!" he hissed as Joel prepared for a tackle.
"Did you see him then, Joel?" asked the other, after staring for a brief interval in the direction indicated, without noticing any incriminating evidence. "Well, no, I can't say that I did, though it seems to me there is something like a bunch in that crotch about ten feet from the ground; but the branches sort of screen it.
"Thank you," said the old gentleman, when he could speak, and accepting it quickly, "you say truly, the air is beastly," glancing around the room in displeasure at the plentiful signs of its inmates' idea of having a good time at college. "Are Joel and David Pepper soon to be in?"
Where is he? I see no one." Hulda hastily climbed a little knoll behind the mossy rock upon which she had been sitting. "Joel!" she cried, suddenly. "Do you see him?" "There, there!" As she spoke she pointed to the imprudent man whose body seemed to be almost overhanging the abyss. If his foothold upon a tiny ledge of rock failed him, or he was seized with dizziness, he was lost.
Joel was blanched to the color of the snow, his horse trembled in every muscle, but Dell shook out his rope. "Hold on," urged Joel, gasping for breath. "Hold on. That's a mad wolf, or else it's dying." "He's poisoned," replied Dell. "See how he lays his head back on his flank. It's the griping of the poison. Half of them die in just that position. I'm going to rope and drag him to death."
The fame of wicked Dodge never interfered with the transaction of business, its iniquity catering largely to the rabble. "I'll take Joel with me," said the drover to Forrest, "and you look after the horses and hang around the hotel. Dud Stoddard is almost sure to look me up, and if you meet him, admit that we looked over his cattle again. I want him to hound me into buying that herd."
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