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Updated: May 4, 2025
"I suppose it was about four o'clock. We couldn't see our watches." The Chief held a hand across the desk. "Let me see yours," he said. "See what, sir?" asked Clint. "Your watch." Clint took it off and laid it in the Chief's hand. It was a plain and inexpensive gold watch and was quite evidently far from new.
He thought you was a tough, but he didn't mind that no more than I did. It ain't for us to say what we're goin' to be, not always. Things in life git stronger than we are. You was a tough, but who's goin' to judge you! I ain't; for Clint took to you, Sinnet, an' he never went wrong in his thinkin'. God! he was wife an' child to me an' he's dead dead dead."
It was a quarrel over cards, an' Greevy was drunk, an' followed Clint out into the prairie in the night and shot him like a coyote. Clint hadn't no chance, an' he jest lay there on the ground till morning, when Ricketts and Steve Joicey found him. An' Clint told Ricketts who it was." "Why didn't Ricketts tell it right out at once?" asked Sinnet.
Dreer ought to have spanked him." "Then you don't think Penny had any right to interfere?" "Don't I? You bet I do! Anyone has a right to interfere with Harmon Dreer. Anyone who hands him a jolt is a public benefactor." "I fear you're a trifle biased," laughed Clint. "Whatever that is, I am," responded Amy cheerfully. "What was Melville doing to arouse the gentleman's wrath?"
But if Clint was troubled with forebodings, not so the school at large. Enthusiastic mass-meetings were held alternate evenings and the new songs were rehearsed and the cheers which were to bring terror to the enemy were thundered with a mighty zest. Brimfield refused to even consider defeat. Parades became a frequent proceeding.
The newcomer paused and viewed the boy on the stand with frank curiosity. Then his gaze wandered across to the mower, which was at the instant making the turn at the further corner, over by the tennis courts. Finally, "Bossing the job?" he asked, nodding toward the mower. Clint smiled and shook his head. "No, just just loafing." "Hot, isn't it?"
Even Penny Durkin's violin was silent, which was a most unusual condition of affairs for that hour of the afternoon. Clint slammed his door behind him, tossed his cap in the general direction of the window-seat and flopped morosely into a chair at the table.
"Guess we'd better hike along, Clint. How far is Wharton from here?" "About five miles, by road," said the youth. "Maybe less if you cross over there and hit the trolley line. Say, if you get over there you might catch a car. What time is it?" "Just five-three," answered Clint. "Oh, well, then there won't be one along for most a half-hour. That'll be your shortest way, though."
And here," said Captain Rogers, suddenly, turning toward me, "is something that belongs to you, I believe, Clint Webb." There were several letters which he placed in my hand. The top one was addressed in mother's handwriting, and I seized it with a cry of delight. "Know 'em, do you?" he said. "This is from my mother and this from Ham and this one from our lawyer "
"I'll bet a great little football player was lost when you forsook the gridiron for the the field of scholarly endeavour," said Tom Hall. "He's caught it, too!" groaned the youth beside him, Steve Edwards. "Guess I'll take him home." "You're not talking that way yet, are you, Thayer?" asked Jack Innes solicitously. "I don't think so," replied Clint with a smile. "You will sooner or later, though.
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