Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 31, 2025
Bostil put his arm around her and felt immeasurably relieved to have the golden head press close to his shoulder. "Child, we can't fly acrost the river. Now don't you cry about Creech's hosses. They ain't starved yet. It's hard luck. But mebbe it'll turn out so Creech'll lose only the race. An', Lucy, it was a dead sure bet he'd have lost thet anyway."
No, his case was hopeless with Lucy, and if it had not been so Bostil would have made it hopeless. Yet there were things Slone could not fathom the wilful, contradictory, proud and cold and unaccountably sweet looks and actions of the girl. They haunted Slone. They made him conscious he had a mind and tortured him with his development.
"Grand, sir grand!" exclaimed the simple Joel. "Peg is runnin' faster than last year, but Blue Roan is leavin' her a mile. Dad's goin' to bet all he has. The roan can't lose this year." Bostil felt like a bull bayed at by a hound. Blue Roan was a young horse, and every season he had grown bigger and faster. The King had reached the limit of his speed.
"Glad to have him," replied Bostil. "Good. An' now mebbe we'd better get down to the bizness of this here meetin'." They seated themselves around the table, upon which Bostil laid an old and much-soiled ledger and a stub of a lead-pencil. "First well set the time," he said, with animation, "an' then pitch into details.... What's the date?"
"Dad! ... Last Tuesday was my birthday the day you DID NOT give me a horse!" "Aw, so it was," rejoined Bostil, confused at her reproach. "An' thet date was let's see April sixth.... Then this is April thirteenth. Much obliged, Lucy. Run back to your aunt now. This hoss talk won't interest you." Lucy tossed her head. "I'll bet I'll have to straighten out the whole thing."
When he came down he tore the turf and sent it flying, and when he shot up again he was doubled in a red knot, bristling with fiery hair, a furious wild beast, mad to throw the rider. Bostil never heard as wild a scream uttered by a horse. Likewise he had never seen so incomparable a horseman as this stranger. Indians and riders alike thrilled at a sight which was after their own hearts.
Brackton took up the lantern and placed a hand on the door ready to go out. "Then a rider punched Joel I never seen who an' Joel had a fit. I dragged him in here. An' as you see, he ain't come to yet." "Wal, Brackton, the boy's crazy," said Bostil. "So I reckon. An' I'm afeared he'll burn us out he's crazy on fires, anyway or do somethin' like." "He's sure a problem.
Bostil opened his door and stepped outside. The eastern ramparts of the desert were bright red with the rising sun. With the night behind him and the morning cool and bright and beautiful, Bostil did not suffer a pang nor feel a regret. He walked around under the cottonwoods where the mocking-birds were singing.
Now they're all lined up back of the post.... Ah! gun-smoke! They move.... It looks like a go." Then Holley was silent, strained, in watching. So were all the watchers silent. Bostil saw far down the valley a moving, dark line of horses. "THEY'RE OFF! THEY'RE OFF!" called Holley, thrillingly.
But it was too swift it would not last. The Indians began to yell, drowning the hoarse shouts of the riders. Out of the tail of his eye Bostil saw Cordts and Sears and Hutchinson. They were acting like crazy men. Strange that horse-thieves should care! The million thrills within Bostil coalesced into one great shudder of rapture. He grew wet with sweat.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking