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Updated: May 27, 2025
Ike stooped and rescued the sodden mass, and laid it gently across Buck's shoulders. For a moment the sun shone down upon the wondering group. The clouds had broken completely, and were scattering in every direction as though eager to escape observation after their recent shameful display. No one seemed to think of moving out into the rapidly warming open.
"A cook! A cook! Oh, joy, a cook!" exulted Johnny, not for one instant doubting Buck's ability to capture the whole outfit and seeing a whirl of excitement in the effort. "Anybody we knows?" Inquired Skinny Thompson. "Shore. Tenspot Davis, Waffles, Salvation Carroll, Bigfoot Baker, Charley Lane, Lefty Allen, Kid Morris, Curley Tate an' Tex Le Blanc," responded Frenchy. "Umm-m.
After dinner she had her old place on the arm of her father's porch chair; Alix, with Buck's smooth head in her lap, sat on the porch step beside Peter, and the lovers murmured from the darkness of the hammock under the shadow of the rose vine. It was happy talk in the sweet evening coolness; everybody seemed harmonious and in sympathy to-night.
"Anything to oblige," replied Wiggins, who had solemnly entered with Slim into his assumed formality. Wiggins stepped behind Peruna, and reaching forward, removed Buck's gun from the outlaw's holster, which had been empty since Buck, earlier in the day, had taken his revolver after he had insulted Echo. "Anything to oblige," said Wiggins to Slim. Then to Peruna he commanded: "Let's take a walk.
"Then we shall see how far you can justify such an intrusion." When the valet had at last left the room Sir Charles turned his attention once more to his scapegrace nephew, who had viewed the details of the famous buck's toilet with the face of an acolyte assisting at a mystery.
They were content to gather about Buck's tall figure and gape down at the beautiful face of the girl lying in his arms. It was Beasley Melford who first became practical. "She's alive, anyway," he said. "Sort o' stunned. Mebbe it's the lightnin'." Pete turned, a withering glance upon his foxy face. "Lightnin' nuthin'," he cried scornfully. "If she'd bin hit she'd ha' bin black an' dead.
But I do take my job seriously. Don't forget that for a minute. You talk the way a man always talks when his pride is hurt." "Pride! It isn't that." "Oh, yes, it is. I didn't sell T. A. Buck's Featherloom Petticoats on the road for almost ten years without learning a little something about men and business.
For it was the man I hunted with on the Pungwe in '98 him whom the Kaffirs called "Buck's Horn", because of his long curled moustaches. He was a prince even then, and now he is a very great general. When I saw him, I ran forward and gripped his hand and cried, "Hoe gat het, Mynheer?" and he knew me and shouted in Dutch, "Damn, if it isn't old Peter Pienaar!"
"Phwat's this?" he inquired of Elerson "a Frinch cooroor, or maybe a Sac shquaw in a buck's shirrt?" "Don't introduce him to me," said Mount to Elerson; "he'll try to kiss my hand, and I hate ceremony." "Quit foolin'," said Elerson, as the two big, over-grown boys seized each other and began a rough-and-tumble frolic.
"If yu wants to corral this here herd of simoleons yu has to ride a cayuse what Red bet me yu can't ride. Yu has got to grow on that there saddle and stayed growed for five whole minutes by Buck's ticker. I ain't a-goin' to tell yu he's any saw-horse, for yu'd know better, as yu reckons Red wouldn't bet on no losin' proposition if he knowed better, which same he don't.
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