Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 5, 2025
So would I. An' as for your handlin' a hoss, I never seen no better." Slone appeared embarrassed and kept studying the gold coins in his palm. Some one touched Bostil, who, turning, saw Brackton at his elbow. The other men were now bantering with the Indians. "Come now while I've got a minnit," said Brackton, taking up a lantern. "I've somethin' to show you."
"Wal, I'm glad to hear it," said Bostil, gruffly. "Brack, how many hosses entered now for the big race?" The lean, gray Brackton bent earnestly over his soiled ledger, while the riders and horsemen round him grew silent to listen. "Thar's the Sage King by Bostil," replied Brackton.
"Brackton tells me you've entered a hoss against the field." "It's an open race, isn't it?" "Open as the desert, Lucy," he replied. "What's this hoss Wildfire you've entered?" "Wouldn't you like to know?" taunted Lucy. "If he's as good as his name you might be in at the finish.... But, Lucy, my dear, talkin' good sense now you ain't a-goin' to go up on some unbroken mustang in this big race?"
All spoke at once to Bostil, and he only yelled for Brackton. The old man came hurriedly out, alarmed. "Where's this Slone?" demanded Bostil. "Slone!" ejaculated Brackton. "I'm blessed if I know. Ain't he home?" "No. An' he's left his black hoss in your field." "Wal, by golly, thet's news to me.... Bostil, there's been strange doin's lately." Brackton seemed at a loss for words.
The teamster replied that travel was dry, the water-holes were dry, and he was dry. And his reply gave both concern and amusement. "One more trip out an' back thet's all, till it rains," concluded Wilson. Brackton led him inside, evidently to alleviate part of that dryness. Water and grass, next to horses, were the stock subject of all riders. "It's got oncommon hot early," said one.
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.
Slone felt reasonably sure his horses would be safe there, but he meant to keep a mighty close watch on them. And old Brackton, as if he read Slone's mind, said this: "Keep your eye on thet daffy boy, Joel Creech. He hangs round my place, sleeps out somewheres, an' he's crazy about hosses." Slone did not need any warning like that, nor any information to make him curious regarding young Creech.
"Van, there's a hoss!" exclaimed one. "No, he ain't," replied Van. And that diverse judgment appeared to be characteristic throughout. The strange thing was that Macomber, the rancher, had already traded his mustang and money to boot for the sorrel. The deal, whether wise or not, had been consummated. Brackton came out with Red Wilson, and they had to have their say.
I'd parched myself but for them.... We circled an' crossed them red cliffs an' then the strip of red sand, an' worked down into the canyon. Under the wall was a long stretch of beach sandy an' at the head of this we found Bostil's boat." "Wal, !" burst out the profane Brackton. "Bostil's boat! ... Say, 'ain't Joel told you yet about thet boat?"
He saw an unkempt, ragged form that had been wet and muddy, and was now dust-caked. Creech stood silent in a dignity of despair that wrung Slone's heart. His silence was an answer. It was Joel Creech who broke the suspense. "Didn't I tell you-all what'd happen?" he shrilled. "Aw no!" chorused the riders. Brackton shook all over. Tears dimmed his eyes tears that he had no shame for.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking