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It's just the sort of idea that Buckskin Jack himself might have sprung out of that wonderful brain of his. I believe you're right. Broken Feather would do a cunning thing like that. It's quite in his line. Nothing more likely. In any case, the Crows are going to alter their programme. All preparations for the buffalo surround are complete. You and friend Rube there were to have had a great time.
The Rube was beginning to labor in the box; Ashwell was limping; Spears looked as if he would drop any moment; McCall could scarcely walk. But if the ball came his way he could still run. Nevertheless, I never saw any finer fielding than these cripped players executed that inning. "Ash Mac can you hold out?" I asked, when they limped in. I received glances of scorn for my question.
Ellis lined to Cairns in right; Treadwell fouled two balls and had a called strike, and was out; McKnight hit a low fly over short, then Bud Wiler sent one between Spears and Mullaney. Spears went for it while the Rube with giant strides ran to cover first base. Between them they got Bud, but it was only because he was heavy and slow on his feet.
The old man raised himself on an elbow and glanced along the line of men whom he had posted at equal intervals behind the defence of a wide grassy bank commanding the front of the threatened horse corral. Next to himself was Isa Blagg, then Jake Paterson and Tom Lippincott. Between Lippincott and the man at the end station, Abe Harum, was young Rube Carter.
Then he let drive with his fast straight ball and hit the first Providence batter in the ribs. His comrades had to help him to the bench. The Rube hit the next batter on the leg, and judging from the crack of the ball, I fancied that player would walk lame for several days. The Rube tried to hit the next batter and sent him to first on balls.
Dunno about your hip. Is it painin' you?" "Some," Rube answered. "But don't you worry. I ain't thinkin' about my wounds. I'm thinkin' about you. What's the matter with that head-dress? Ain't you goin' ter put it on, and lemme see how you look in it? What about a dress rehearsal?" Kiddie shook his head. "Gee!" exclaimed Rube.
"You c'n see the bottom of the lake fathoms an' fathoms beneath us," he said. "Yes," agreed Rube, peering down into the transparent depths. He raised his head and added: "You was sayin' th' other day, Kiddie, that no white man, an' p'r'aps no red man either, had ever lived in these parts in ancient times."
On the Turner raft, Dolph was at the bow, the school-master at the stern, while Rube who was cook and Chad, in spite of a stinging pain in one foot, built an oven of stones, where coffee could be boiled and bacon broiled, and started a fire, for the air was chill on the river, especially when they were running between the hills and no sun could strike them.
"Now let's get along t' the cabin," he said. "Will you come, Sheriff?" Isa and Rube both accompanied him. They went down to Grizzly Notch, where the still loaded canoe had been left overnight. While Rube was loosening the painter, Kiddie went aside to the spare canoe, and searched about on the bank. Presently he stood still, and called Rube to his side.
And he turned over and pointed with an agitated finger at a human skull and a heap of crumbled bones. "It's a man's skeleton. And you notioned as nobody 'd ever set foot in this forest before!" "Queer!" ejaculated Rube, standing up and contemplating the gruesome remnants of the skeleton. "Mortal queer it is. Can't make it out.
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