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They all saw the tiny spurt of flame, a curl of smoke from the plate on the Red's chest. Not only the man, but his control was finished now. A wolfish growl and two of the Tatars swung over, started down to the Red. Menlik shouted and they slackened pace. "We want that," he cried in English. "Perhaps so we can learn " "The learning is yours," Jil-Lee replied. "Just as this land is yours, Shaman.
I reckon little Louise had somethin' to do with gettin' the kid the job. Well, if she likes him, I got to. Guess I'd love a snake if she said to. Yes, I'm listenin' to myself ..." And the taciturn foreman's hard, weathered face wrinkled in a smile. "I'm listenin' ... None of the boys know Red's camped up by the spring. I do. Red used to be a damn white Injun in the old days.
He was expected to know his enemies by instinct. He was expected, as a usual thing, to settle his disputes single-handed. Silent Saunders was in the general store and saloon. He was disgusted in that he had been unable to induce the citizens to ride out with him and clean up Overland Red's claim. Overland had once been of them, even if briefly.
Indeed, before he had recovered his faculties to the point of offering determined resistance, he was pinned back against the wall by his shoulders, and the Rough Red's face was within two feet of his own. "And how are ye, ye ould darlint?" shouted the latter, with a roll of oaths. "Why, Jimmy Bourke!" cried Orde, and burst into a laugh.
"Leave her in the skating house and come on," he called. "Red's got it and we're having heaps of fun." Skinny Mosher and Perry Alford came, both in pursuit of the fleet-footed Brown. "Let's see her skate," he sneered, knowing that Louise dared not release her escort for pursuit. "You're a fine teacher, you are. Don't you wish you were with us?" John's eyes followed him longingly as he skated off.
The reply was a chorus from the two: "I don't know honest, I don't!" In his eagerness, Chicago Red moved toward his questioner unwisely. "Honest to Gawd, I don't know nothin' about it!" The Inspector's fist shot out toward Chicago Red's jaw. The impact was enough. The thief went to his knees under the blow. "Now, get up and talk!"
His breath rose in his throat. "I bet you look swell in red, Miss Sadie. But a girl like you looks swell in anything." "Red's my color. Dee Dee says my mamma was a gay one, too, when it came to color. Had to have a red bow pinned somewheres around all the months she was in bed and and up to the very night she died. Gimme red every time.
"I was just making up my mind whether I'd stay and talk with you, or ask you to put out your fire and go somewhere else. But I think you are all right. Please put on your hat." Overland Red's self-assurance shrunk a little. The girl's eyes were direct and fearless, yet not altogether unfriendly. He thought that deep within them dwelt a smile.
He wouldn't give up trying to get money from the government back money owed him, he swore and the idea of being turned down at home seemed to obsess him. I talked and cussed myself weak. No good! Red beat it soon after that beat it from Middleville on a freight train. And I never heard a word from him.... Not a word...." "Blair, can't you see it Red's way?" queried Lane, sadly.
He could even tolerate "Red's" harmonica; in fact, he often begged him to play it when the latter came over to midday dinner, and his legs had so improved that he could actually jiggle them to some merry tune. "If you don't look out, you'll be dancin' soon!" "Red" used to say on these happy occasions. "You can shimmy now!" "Shet your head!" Uncle Henry cried; but not angrily not now.
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