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Supposin’ you stopper the chain with them big hands o’ yourn and keep it from running out clear. Will you, please?” So the devil takes off his coat and rubs his hands together, and gets away forrard by the bitts, and stands by. “All ready, Cap’n,” he says. “All ready, Chips?” asked the old man. “All ready, sir,” replies Chips.
“What stables have you here?” demanded the traveller, giving no more heed to this than to the former announcement; but bidding his servant to alight, and preparing to do so himself. “Stables!” repeated the baffled host, shading his eyes so as to scrutinize the newcomer, “stables, Cap’n?” “Yes, stables. I want you to take care of my horses; I can take care of myself.
How’m I to take in three reefs when the sail’s stiff up-and-down?” “Why,” said the old man, “you can’t do it. Come out o’ that! Down from aloft, you hoof-footed son. That’s one to me.” “Yes,” says the devil, when he got on deck again, “I don’t deny it, Cap’n. That’s one to you.” “Now, Mr.
Very soon that black cloud worked up to windward, right alongside, and there came a red flash, and a strong sulphurous smell, and then a loud peal of thunder as the devil steps aboard. “Mornin’, Cap’n,” says he. “Mornin’, Mr. Devil,” says the old man, “and what in blazes do you want aboard my ship?”
Drew put the plate on the bunk and stood up to approach the bars. Muller was the taller; the Kentuckian had to raise his eyes to meet the sergeant’s. The trooper’s face was mostly in the shadow, but it was plain the man did not mean him any ill. "I got m’ reasons." Muller did not make any straighter answer. "But you think o’ what th’ cap’n does know about you, kid.
They threaded their way to the cantina where the officer dismounted and went inside. The troopers continued to sit their saddles and regard the scene about them wistfully. "Looks like a duty patrol," Fenner remarked. "Maybe Cap’n Bayliss. He’s gittin’ some biggety idear as how it’s up t’ him t’ police this here town. Does he start t’ crow too loud, Don Cazar or Reese Topham’ll cut his spurs.
I would unhesitatingly vouch for him." Bayliss looked directly at Drew. "You have a job? A reason for being in town?" He shot the questions as he might have shot slugs from his Colt. Nye answered before Drew could. "He sure has a job, Cap’n. He’s ridin’ th’ rough string for Rennie. An’ he came to town with them remounts you’re buyin’. An’ what Topham says is true, th’ kid ain’t no troublemaker.
But there were no Yanks or Rebs any more, no riders or marchers in blue and gray—just United States troops. "There’s a garrison out to the Mesa camp. An’ Cap’n Bayliss, he don’t take kindly to Rebs. You see, it’s this way.... Out in th’ breaks there’s a bunch of Rebs-leastways they claim as how they’s Rebs—still holdin’ out.
Ain’t nobody runnin’ a stampede over Doc Matthews, not even th’ cap’n when he’s got his tail up an’ ready to hook sod with both horns. Only, lissen here, kid, maybe you’d better keep outta sight. Seems like a man who’s waitin’ to catch a fella makin’ his boot mark in th’ wrong pasture can sometimes do it." "Nye’s right," Topham agreed.
He went aft, of course, took a squint aloft, and saw our friend crying at the wheel. “Hello, my man,” he says, “why, what’s all this? Ain’t you well? You’d best lay aft for a dose o’salts at four bells tonight.” “No, Cap’n,” said the man, “there’s no salts’ll ever cure my sickness.” “Why, what’s all this?” says the old man. “You must be sick if it’s as bad as all that.
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