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She did not seem to suffer but faded gently away, satisfied when Jeanne was beside her. Tony Beeson, quite outside of the fire, opened his house in his rough but hospitable fashion to his wife's people. Rose had not fared so well. Pierre was his father's right hand through the troublous times. Many of the well-to-do people were glad to accept shelter anywhere.
He led Duane in the direction of the camp-fire. "Pickers, go back on duty," he ordered, "and, Beeson, you look after this horse." When Duane got beyond the line of mesquite, which had hid a good view of the camp-site, he saw a group of perhaps fifteen rangers sitting around the fires, near a long low shed where horses were feeding, and a small adobe house at one side.
Jeanne was looking down the little slant to the cottages and the wigwams, and speculating upon the queerness of marriage. "I wish I had made as much fortune as Tony Beeson. But then I'm only a little past sixteen, and in five years I shall be twenty-one. Then I am going to have a wife and house of my own." "O Pierre!" Jeanne broke into a soft laugh. "Yes, Jeanne " turning very red.
In the course of their disjointed remarks Thorpe explained that he was looking for work in the woods, and intended, first of all, to try the Morrison & Daly camps at Beeson Lake. "Know anything about logging?" inquired the stranger. "Nothing," Thorpe confessed. "Ain't much show for anything but lumber-jacks. What did you think of doing?" "I don't know," said Thorpe, doubtfully.
Beeson, who having somewhat recovered from his fright was groping his way to a solution of the evening's events. But now another actor appeared upon the scene. Out of the square black hole in the middle of the floor protruded the head of the departed Chinaman, his glassy eyes turned upward in their angular slits and fastened on the dangling queue above with a look of yearning unspeakable. Mr.
You will find me at the Elite Café, at a table, at ten o'clock in the morning. And in case you are a little short I beg of you to make use of the enclosed, with my best wishes and apologies. You may take it as a loan; I do not care as to that. I am utterly miserable. E. To Frank Beeson, Esquire. Faugh!
'You're decided enough, sir, in your play, they tell me, the vindictive little baronet commented on his hesitation, and Woodseer sprang to the proffered vacant place. But he had to speak of his fly waiting for him at the steps of a certain hotel. 'Best hotel in the town! Sir Beeson exclaimed pointedly to Henrietta, reading her constraint with this comical object before her.
Beeson also seated himself in a chair which had been a barrel, and which, retaining much of its original character, seemed to have been designed with a view to preserving his dust if it should please him to crumble. For a moment there was silence; then, from somewhere among the pines, came the snarling yelp of a coyote; and simultaneously the door rattled in its frame.
Silver Jack, bewildered, half stunned, not understanding this little cowardly man who had permitted himself to be kicked from the saloon, rose slowly. "You stand there!" commanded Darrell. He opened a pocket-knife, and cut the harness to bits, leaving only the necessary head-stalls intact. "Now git!" said he. "Pike out! fer Beeson Lake. Don't you stop at no Camp Twenty-eight!"
I stared at the fine slanting script of the address: Please deliver to Frank R. Beeson, Esqr., At the Queen Hotel. Arrived from Albany, N. Y. I nodded; rebuffing his attentive eyes I stuffed the envelope into my pantaloons pocket. "Good-bye, sir." "Good luck. When you come back remember the Queen."
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