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Updated: May 7, 2025
It was neck and neck for the three. The cowboy, Curly, had slightly the advance of the others, but needed to spur hard to keep even with Battersleigh, the old cavalryman, who rode with weight back and hands low, as though it were cross country in old Ireland. Franklin challenged both in the run up, riding with the confidence of the man who learned the saddle young in life.
The tent in which Colonel Battersleigh was now writing was an old one, yellow and patched in places. In size it was similar to that of the bedroom in New York, and its furnishings were much the same. A narrow bunk held a bed over which there was spread a single blanket.
The flesh of the buffalo was now a marketable commodity at any point along the railway; but the settler who owned a team and a rifle was much more apt to go out and kill his own meat than to buy it of another. There were many wagons which went out that fall from Ellisville besides those of the party with which Franklin, Battersleigh, and Curly set out.
He swept Franklin and Curly and Battersleigh aside as though they were but babes. It was his purpose to rush out, to strike, to kill. It was the moment of opportunity for the leader of the assailants. The whistle of a rope cut the air, and the noose tightened about the giant's neck with instant grip.
An' I confiss to ye with contrition, Ned, me dear boy, I'm Cubberd Allen Wiggit-Galt, Etcetera !" After his fashion Franklin sat silent, waiting for the other's speech. "Ned," said Battersleigh at length, "till me, who's the people of the intire worrld that has the most serane belief in their own shupayriority?" "New-Yorkers," said Franklin calmly. "Wrong. Ye mustn't joke, me boy. No.
Here I'm Henry Battersleigh, agent of the British-American Colonization Society. On t'other side I might be Cuthbert Allen Wingate-Galt. An' Etcetera, man; etcetera, to God knows what. Don't mintion it, Ned, till I've gone away, fer I've loved the life here so I've so enjoyed bein' just Batty, agent, and so forth!
Our life on the claim's elevatin', for it leaves time for thought, but it is a bit slow at times. An' will we come? Man, we'll be the first." "Well, then, so long, fellers," said Curly. "I got to be movin' along a little. See you at the dance, sure." "Now, as to a ball, Battersleigh," said Franklin, argumentatively, when they were alone, "how can I go?
"For instance, can you tell me how many boss ribs there are in the hump of a buffalo?" "Well, no o," admitted Curly. "But what's the difference, so long ez I know they're all good to eat ?" "Plainly, a d d Philistine," said Battersleigh again, striking a match for his pipe. "But I'm not sure but he had you there, Ned, me boy." "I'll show you," said Franklin eagerly. "Here it is on the hide.
Seeing which inscription in heavy black lines, many a man wondered, considering that he had discovered an Old-World custom, and joining in the belief of the owner of the name that all the world must know the identity of Battersleigh. What were the financial resources of Battersleigh after the cessation of his pay as a cavalry officer not even his best friends could accurately have told.
"Certainly," said Franklin, "you may have a smell, if you'll promise to keep your hands off." Battersleigh approached his face to the bag and snuffed at it once, twice, thrice, as though his senses needed confirmation. He straightened up and looked Franklin in the face. "Ned," said he, his voice sinking almost to a whisper, "it's it's apples!" "Right," said Franklin. "And isn't that news?"
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