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Updated: June 19, 2025
"I don't understand," she said. "I draw these things. I have sold my soul." "Archie!" He winced, but stuck to it bravely. "Yes, I knew how you would feel about it, and that was why I didn't dare to tell you, and why we fixed up this story about old Brackett. I couldn't bear to live on you any longer, and to see you roughing it here, when we might be having all the money we wanted."
The others could not see them in the darkness, and he would not have cared much if they could. But Billy Brackett was not giving way to his grief. There was too much to be done for that. He was trying to set up the overturned stove, and make things more comfortable.
He only hitched himself forward as though trying to assist the momentum of the cart, and clutched his buckets, one in each hand. A woman came flying out of the first house they passed and squalled: "Where's the fire, Mr. Brackett, and is anybody burnt up, and hadn't you jest as liv' take my rags now? I've got 'em all sacked and ready to weigh, and I sha'n't be to home after to-day."
He felt in duty bound to accompany his master's singing, but on this occasion, at least, he brought it to a sudden conclusion, for no one could possibly sing in face of the uproarious laughter that greeted his outburst. "That's always the way," remarked Billy Brackett, with a comical expression. "I never am allowed to prove what I am really capable of in the vocal line.
"Well, that bump will make a little room," remarked Cap'n Sproul, jouncing him down into a chair. He planted one broad hand on the table and the other on his hip, and stood over the guest until the last crumb of the duff was gone, although Mr. Brackett clucked hiccups like an overfed hen. The Cap'n felt some of his choler evaporate, indulging in this sweet act of tyranny.
Stammeringly he told the story of his father's death and the horse's connection therewith. "Well," said Brackett, "if you don't turn out a hoodoo, you're a winner, sure. But I'll be blessed if this don't sound like a story! But I've heard that story before. The man I got Black Boy from, no matter how I got him, you're too young to understand the ins and outs of poker, told it to me."
He just grabbed Brackett by the back of the neck and slammed him around through the manzanita brush like a dog shaking a groundhog, Brackett told me that he never felt so surprised and hurt in his life. He hadn't cal'lated on that bear coming out for a good two minutes more; but mebbe the bear had stronger objections to smoking than Brackett knew.
She and her father were still staying with the Blankinships. They had a very satisfactory talk, beginning with the beginning of things, and going over their long friendship, laughing, remembering, and regretting. Jack was to live with the St. Johns, and they talked much of him, and of old Mrs. Brackett, and of affairs at home.
Henry Burns and Harvey looked at each other helplessly. Then Harvey grinned. "It's so tough, it's almost a joke, Henry," he said. "Great if it had only happened to somebody else, say your friend Harry Brackett," replied Henry Burns. "Guess we won't tell much about this part of the trip to Tom and Bob, though. What do you want to do, go back to the station, or keep on?" "Back!" exclaimed Harvey.
Suddenly Billy Brackett spoke up and asked: "But where is Bim? Is it possible that we have left him behind?" For a moment no one answered. Then Winn said: "That's what Glen and I were ashore for. We are afraid he is lost." "Lost! Bim wouldn't get lost! He has too much sense." "I expect he is this time, though," said Glen, "and we don't believe he will ever be found again, either."
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