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Updated: May 27, 2025
"What a wonderful fellow Don Mike must have been!" she mused. "White men sing his praises, and Indians and mixed breeds cry them. No wonder this ex-soldier plans to outbid me for Panchito. He attaches a sentimental value to the horse because of his love for poor Don Mike. I wonder if I ought to bid against him under the circumstances. Poor dear! He wants his buddy's horse so badly.
"Step on it," sneered Miss Montague. "Dish the dirt!" "Buddy's belief, however, that your stage career was blasted and your young life laid waste by the scion of a rich New York house should, in the interests of truth, be corrected." "He knows I was married." "True. But not to Bennie Fulton, the jockey." "That is a lie!" "Nor that the estimable Mr.
Gives 'em kind of a simple expression. But you get a good look into them brown eyes of Buddy's, 'specially when he's listenin' to you with his head cocked on one side and an ear turned wrong side out, and you'll decide he must have some gray matter concealed somewhere.
Whatever the pose she had adopted for Buddy's benefit, it was evident now that she credited his friend with intelligence equal to her own, and recognized the futility of deceit, therefore she made no attempt to pass as anything except an experienced young woman of the world, and Gray admired her for it.
"Ten thousand bar'ls!" Briskow echoed. "That's what he said. Of course, they can't tell a thing about it. Buddy's only guessing, but I haven't had a big well yet." Gray took a nervous turn about the room. "Ten thousand barrels! Lord! That would help. That would do the trick.
"Of course I always knew some woman would get hold of him," said Anthony, Sr., fumbling blindly for his mouth with a bit of toast, his eyes still on the letter; "but, by George, this sounds like Charlie Ross!" "Woman!" repeated Mrs. Fox, with a relieved laugh. "Buddy's in love, is he? Don't worry, Tony, it won't last! Of all boys in the world he's the least likely to be foolish that way!"
Already the waters had ceased to rise, but Buddy's difficulty in getting through proved the folly of attempting escape for the time being; his horse had been forced to swim with him in more than one place; in others he had waded waist deep, stumbling through thickets, hauling the animal after him by main strength. There was nothing to do, it seemed, but await a subsidence of the flood.
So I'd drape myself in an old raincoat, put on a pair of heavy drivin' gauntlets, and frisk around with him. No doubt about Buddy's being glad to see me on them occasions. His affection was deep and violent. He'd let out a few joy yelps, take a turn around the yard, and then come leapin' at me with his mouth open and his eyes rollin' wild.
"A tail?" exclaimed his mamma in great surprise, and she wondered if, after all, Buddy wasn't ill, for that was a very strange request. And she began to wish that his papa was home, or that Brighteyes, who was Buddy's sister, was in the house, to help look after him, but Brighteyes had gone to see her aunt, and wouldn't be back till night. "Yes," went on Buddy, "I want a tail.
No, I haven't seen any around the house. What do you want of it? Are you going to wire a tail on to yourself?" and Buddy's sister smiled just the least bit. "Please don't remind me of that," said Buddy, for he felt a little ashamed of the time he had tried to get a tail for himself and had been nearly dragged into a fox's den, as I told you in the story before this one.
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