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Updated: June 7, 2025
Carara smiled at Cloudy, who nodded, as if pleased by the compliment. Then it was that the Flying Heart spokesman made an inquiry in hushed, hesitating tones. "How do you like The Holy City" he removed his hat, as did those back of him. "As sung by Madam-o-sella Melby?" "Rotten!" Gallagher said promptly. "That's a bum, for fair."
"I go." "And don't waste no time neither," directed Willie. "You tear like a jack-rabbit ahead of a hot wind." Carara tossed his cigarette aside, and the sound of his spurs was lost around the corner of the house. "This makes a boy of me," the last speaker continued. "I can hear the plaintiff notes of Madam-o-sella Melby once again."
My mother was still very handsome; our maids of honour, and even our waiting women, had more charms than are to be found in all Africa. As for myself, I was ravishing, was exquisite, grace itself, and I was a virgin! I did not remain so long; this flower, which had been reserved for the handsome Prince of Massa Carara, was plucked by the corsair captain.
Joy nodded toward the door to the culinary department, as if to make free of his hospitality, at the instant that Carara, who had circled the building, came into view from the opposite side, a fresh cigarette between his lips. His languor vanished at the first glimpse of the scene, and he strode toward the white-clad Celestial, who dove through the open door like a prairie dog into its hole.
The deference with which the cowboys treated him, their simple, child-like faith in his every utterance, combined to exaggerate his contempt for them. Even Carara, disappointed in love, treated him with a smiling, backward sort of courtesy which the trainer misconstructed as timidity. "I thought cowboys was tough guys," continued he, "but it's a mistake.
Again the little gun man expressed his opinion, this time in violet-tinted profanity, and the other cowboys joined in. "All the same he is a guest, and no rough work goes. I'm in charge while Mr. Chapin is away, and I'm responsible." "Senor Bill," Carara ventured, "the fat vaquero, he is no guest. He is one of us." "That's right," seconded Willie. "He's told us all along that Mr.
"Gosh! That's awful funny!" "Si! si!" acknowledged Carara, his white teeth showing through the gloom. "An' it's just like a fool woman," tittered Willie. "That's sure one ridic'lous line of talk." "Still Bill" wiped his eyes with the back of a bony hand. "I know that hull monologue by heart, but I can't never get past that spot to save my soul. Right there I bog down, complete."
Carara bowed, and swept the ground with his high-peaked head-piece. "The Maduro gent yonder is Mr. Cloudy. His mother being a Navajo squaw, named him, accordin' to the rights and customs of her tribe, selecting the title of Cloudy-but-the-Sun-Shines, which same has proved a misnomer, him bein' a pessimist for fair."
"Well, the other mornin' I discovered some tracks through one of Miss Jean's flower-beds." "Tracks!" "Sure! Strange tracks. Man's tracks." "What does that signify?" "We ain't altogether certain. Carara says he seen a stranger hangin' around night before last, and jest now we found where a hoss had been picketed out in the ravine. Looks like he'd stood there more'n once."
"Oh, but I must have a chance to get in trim," said the college man. "One week from Saturday goes," announced Stover, "and we thank you again." Turning to Carara, he directed: "Rope your buckskin, and hike for the Centipede. Tell 'em to unlimber their coin. I'll draw a month's wages in advance for every son-of-a-gun on the Flying Heart, and we'll arrange details to-night." "Si," agreed Carara.
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