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Hennage, while a man of firmness and resource, was not brutal. He contrived, however, to avoid identification of the body by keeping Dan Pennycook from attending the coroner's inquest, for he was a good gambler and never wasted a trump. "I never knew there was such fun at funerals" he soliloquized while returning from the cemetery. He bit a large piece out of his "chewing" and gazed around him.
Shortly thereafter her worthy spouse, Dan Pennycook, came in for his lunch. To him Mrs. Pennycook imparted the tale of the strange man who had rung her up, demanding that she go down to the Hat Ranch and see Donnie Corblay. Pennycook's stupid good-natured face clouded. "Then," he demanded, "why don't you do it?
Donnie, my dear, I'm goin' to wire Los Angeles an' order up a heap o' big red roses on 25 damme, Mrs. Pennycook, what the devil are you lookin' at, ma'am?"
Pennycook, quick to see her opening, "but we were all hoping to hear for your sake." "But you guessed something when I resigned my position at the eating- house?" Donna could scarce restrain a smile as she saw the eagerness with which Mrs. Pennycook showed in her true colors by walking blindly into this verbal trap. A slight sardonic smile flickered across her stern features. "We didn't suspect.
"She thinks she's too good for San Pasqual" Miss Pickett supplemented. "I suppose she imagines her grand airs make her a lady," Mrs. Pennycook deprecated, "but for my part, I think it shows that she's kinder vulgar like." "Well, what do you think o' last night's performance?" Miss Pickett demanded. "I can't think, dearie" murmured Mrs. Pennycook weakly. "I'm so shocked like. It's hard to believe.
Hereafter, if you've got somethin' to say about Donna Corblay you see that it's somethin' nice. You gabbed about her mother when she was alive, and the minute I saw you streakin' it over to Miss Pickett I knew you were at it again. Now you do any more mud-slingin', Mrs. Pennycook, and I'll tell San Pasqual about that thug of a brother o' yours. He's out o' San Quentin."
"An' remember," he warned her, as he prepared to leave, "to look sharp if you see a forty-five-year-old damsel, with a little bright red face, all ears an' no chin, like the ace o' hearts. That'll be Miss Pickett. She'll have with her, like as not, a stout married lady, all gab an' gizzard, like a crow, an' a mouth like a new buttonhole. That'll be Mrs. Pennycook. Look out for 'em both.
This wouldn't have happened. Damn dogs! They say little Donnie belongs east o' the tracks. I killed O'Rourke for thinkin' it." A knock sounded on the door, and Bob opened it, to admit Dan Pennycook. "Doc Taylor's in Bakersfield" he said. Mr. Hennage grinned. "I knew it no luck to-day" he said. "Just wipe the sand out o' my eyes, Bob an' let me kick the bucket without disturbin' nobody.
It appears that Dan Pennycook's half-hearted accusation of Miss Pickett as the author of the anonymous note found on the body of Boras O'Rourke preyed on the spinster's mind, and when Bob McGraw started an investigation she could stand the strain no longer. She fled in terror to the Pennycook home and made certain demands upon Mrs.
Pennycook promised him fervently. "Then it's a go" said Harley P. and walked away. He returned to the Silver Dollar saloon, smiling a little at the joke in which he had indulged at the expense of Mrs. Pennycook. He had informed her that he had "something on" her brother Joe, but he had neglected to inform her what the "something" was which he had "on" brother Joe. Mr.
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