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Updated: June 6, 2025
"You would never have left it, if you had taken my advice," he said, and quitted the room. Mr. Gawtrey gazed after him and muttered, "Is the die then cast?" "What does he mean?" said Morton. "You will know soon," replied Gawtrey, and he followed Birnie; and from that time the whispered conferences with that person, which had seemed suspended during their travels, were renewed.
"They're war-dancing, father," Buddy shouted eagerly, slipping off his horse and wiping away the trickles of perspiration with a handkerchief not much redder than his face. "I drove all the horses down, so they'd be handy. Them range horses are pretty wild. There was two I couldn't get. What'll I do now?" Bob Birnie looked at his youngest rider and smoothed his beard with one hand.
"You oughta kept your horses as thirsty as the cattle was, and I bet they'd a' found that water," he criticized, and was sent to bed for his tactlessness. Bob Birnie himself had thought of that afterwards, and had excused the oversight by saying that he had depended on the map, and had not foreseen a three-day dry drive. However that may be, that night was a night of panicky desperation.
All present were armed with pistols and cutlasses except Morton, who suffered the weapons presented to him to lie unheeded on the table. "Courage, mes amis!" said Gawtrey, closing his book, "Courage!" a few months more, and we shall have made enough to retire upon, and enjoy ourselves for the rest of the days. Where is Birnie?" "Did he not tell you?" said one of the artisans, looking up.
It was but yesterday Birnie gave me fifty napoleons, for which he said you wished change in silver." "Did he? The ras Well! and you got change for them?" "I know not why, but I refused." "That was right, Philip. Do nothing that man tells you." "Will you, then, trust me? You are engaged in some horrible traffic! it may be blood!
From southern Wyoming to Idaho was too far, he reasoned, to make it worth while stating his exact place of residence. If they had never heard of the Tomahawk outfit it would do no good to name it. If they had heard of it, they would wonder why the son of so rich a cowman as Bob Birnie should be hiring out as a common cowpuncher so far from home.
But I guess this valley would be called pretty tough, all right. It's so full of caves and queer places it kinda attracts the ones that want to hide out." Then he grinned. "It's lucky for you it's like that, Mr. Birnie, or I don't see how you'd get away. Now I can show you how to get clear away from here without getting caught. But I guess we ought to have breakfast first. I'm pretty hungry.
"Bud ah Birnie," Bud answered, swiftly weighing the romantic idea of using some makeshift name until he had made his fortune, and deciding against it. A false name might mean future embarrassment, and he was so far from home that his father would never hear of him anyway.
She pushed back her sun-bonnet and with it a mass of red-brown hair that curled damply on her forehead, and smiled disarmingly. "Buddy would be the happiest baby boy alive if I could let him drive now and then!" she added humorously. "Can't make a wagon and an extra yoke of oxen out of this cactus patch," Bob Birnie grinned good humoredly. "Not even to tickle Buddy.
Birnie!" cried Gawtrey, unheeding Morton's question. "Let us halt and breakfast: I am tired." "You forget! we have no money till we make it," returned Birnie, coldly. "Come to the serrurier's he will trust us." "Gaunt Beggary and Scorn with many bell-hounds more." THOMSON'S Castle of Indolence. "The other was a fell, despiteful fiend." Ibid.
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