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He lived on the next half-section and assisted Jernyngham in the management of his ranch, besides sharing the cost of labor, implements and horses with him, though Prescott had cause for believing that the arrangement was not to his friend's benefit. "You'd be better off if you didn't work with that man," he said. "It's possible," Jernyngham agreed. "I know he robs me, but he saves me bother.
I know there's a heap of bad condition in the world, but I often wonder why there is. Why, Dave, I ought to knock wood, of course, but I feel so fine that it seems as though nothing could put me out of form." At that moment young Prescott had no idea how easily a few minutes could bring one from the best possible condition to the brink of physical despair.
Titmouse felt, of a sudden, very certain that the high school boy would stand by that threat. "Seven dollars doesn't land me clear for the season," complained Newbegin Titmouse. "I've spent nine dollars already in advertising the wagon." "Then, if you don't take my seven dollars," Prescott proposed, "you'll be out quite a bit of money, Mr. Titmouse. I see my car coming in the distance. So good "
For two or three seconds all manner thoughts played through Dick's mind. But, no matter what happened to him, loyalty would not allow him to stand by a mere mute spectator of Greg's downfall. Prescott felt sure that he himself had not yet been seen by the Army officer. Slipping out from behind the bush, Cadet Prescott stepped briskly along the path, bringing one hand sharply to his cap in salute.
Prescott wondered what the two women would say of him when they found Miss Catherwood, but he was glad afterward to remember that his chief feeling was for Miss Catherwood and not for himself. He expected every moment that they would find her, and it was hard to keep his heart from jumping. He looked at every chair and table and sofa, dreading lest he should see the famous brown cloak lying there.
As she sank into a deep rush chair Patty had a blurred vision of low bookcases, pictures, rugs, and polished brass thrown into soft relief by a shaded lamp which stood on the table. Before she had time to mentally shake herself and reconstruct her ideas she was gaily chatting to Miss Prescott about the probable outcome of a serial story in the magazine.
"We have had very little talk so far," he said. "My daughter, however, desires me to convey her thanks to you. She believes she will be perfectly comfortable." He was irritatingly formal, his tone was precise, but it changed as he added: "So you knew Cyril!" "Yes," Prescott said gravely. "I was fond of him."
It was obviously a gully filled with snow and its steepness suggested that the ascent of it might prove beyond his powers; but the footprints led on to where it began. After following them to the spot, Prescott sat down on a stone to gather breath. He looked upward with a sinking heart. The hollow was deep and narrow a cleft in the vast ridge of rock, which was glazed with ice.
Symes replied abruptly, "and if I may say so if you will pardon me the name of Symes is a valuable asset to any enterprise prestige, you know, and all that." Prescott looked slightly mystified. "The Symes of Maine grandfather personal friend of Alexander Hamilton's father one-time Speaker of the House; naturally the name of Symes stands for something."
"You're losing time," Prescott objected. "We've lost it," Curtis told him grimly. "My mount has been out since noon, and it's near midnight now. Stanton's isn't much fresher." Prescott rode with them to the bluff, where they got down. "That's a relief; it's quite a while since I could feel the bridle," said Curtis, turning to Prescott. "How did you scare Wandle off? Be as quick as you can!"
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