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"They ain't dug him up yet," he said, "but they sure are slingin' gravel. I hope to God they don't." "They won't." "Anything I can do?" The Texan shook his head: "Nothin', thanks." "Hot as hell fer June, ain't it." "Yes; who you ridin' for?" Mister Kester moved his outfit over to the south slope?" "Naw.
So we started drivin’ north, an’ they jumped us." "Who?" "Yankees—th’ brand what probably set at home an’ let others do th’ real fightin’—ready to come in an’ take over once th’ shootin’ was done with. They grabbed th’ herd. Shot Will Bachus when he stood up to ’em, an’ made it all legal ’cause they had a tin-horn deputy ridin’ with ’em. Well, we got him anyway an’ two or three of th’ others.
In the very dim light Drew could just make out that the Texan was holding his gloved hand to his mouth, puffing at the crooked fingers. "Ain’t as bad as ridin’ out a norther, though. I ’mind me how jus’ ’fore th’ war—I was ridin’ for wages for Old Man Shaw then—we had a norther hit.
Now I'm not a Ring Tailed Panther an' a Cheerful Talker for nothin', an' we want to hunt that band. Like as not they've been doin' some mischief, which we may be able partly to undo. I'm in favor of ridin' south, back on the herd track an' lookin' for 'em." "So am I," said Obed White. "My watch says it's one o'clock in the morning, and my watch is always right, because I made it myself.
Wal, my Oregon brother, we was heah, all year, sleepin' more or less aboot three hours out of every twenty-four ridin' our boots off an' we couldn't keep down that loss." "Jean, you-all have a mighty tumble comin' to you out heah," said Guy, complacently. "Listen, son," spoke up the rancher. "You want to have some hunches before you figure on our troubles.
Annyhow, I was waterin' the horses down to the ford, an' Father Le Claire comes on me sudden, ridin' up on the Kaw trail from the south. He blessed me wid his holy hand and then says quick: "'O'mie, ye are a lad I can trust!"
"'Right-o, sir, says Tom; 'an' there's any jump in the old girl, I'll git it out of 'er. "The next Saturday afternoon, the biggest meet of the season, up rides that divil of a Lory on Molly, him in a brand-new suit of ridin' togs and her heavy-curbed and martingaled like she was a wild four-year-old, the pair lookin' so fine I scarce knew the man or Raven the mare.
But shore you'll go through safe now. You couldn't be in better company fer ridin' or huntin' or marryin' or gittin' religion " "Shut up, you old grizzly!" broke in Dale, sharply. "Haw! Haw! Good-by, gurls, an' good luck!" ended Bill, as he began to whip the reins. Bo said good-by quite distinctly, but Helen could only murmur hers. The old driver seemed a friend.
"I wad far rather hae ridden the black mare than go into ane o' thae things," said Mr Adair, looking contemptuously at the couple of chaises that stood at the door. "I never was fond o' ridin in cotches a' my life. Nasty, rattlin, jinglin things. Ane micht as weel be shut up in a corn kist as in ane o' them."
"Yes, I'll turn around in a minute. Go ahead, Cora and Walter. Get back as soon as you can." Jack cranked up his car, got in, and, running in a half circle, steered it to where Lem was standing. "I ain't much in the habit of ridin' in these here kind of wagons," remarked Lem with a smirk. "I hope nothin' happens t' us." "I guess nothing will.
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