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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Not yet," Casey admitted. "Why, you old dub," cried Wade, "the wire is from Jim Hess, Clyde's uncle. His interests control Western Air. He promises you a square deal." "Eh!" Casey ejaculated, staring at him. "You blamed idiot!" snapped the lawyer, "why don't you thank Clyde? She started the old chief on the warpath after York's scalp." Casey turned to her. "Tell me he isn't raving mad! Is it so?"
To Clyde's amazement the action revealed a worn leather holster strapped to the inner side of the garment, and from it protruded the ivory butt of a six-shooter. McHale was apparently unarmed; in reality a weapon lay within instant reach of his hand. The two horsemen were roughly dressed. Each wore a gun openly at his belt. One was large, sandy-haired, gray-eyed.
The porter, with a deference betokening an unusually large advance tip, ushered him to a seat across the aisle from Clyde's. But the stranger, catching a glimpse of himself in the panel mirror, stopped suddenly. Instantly Clyde's nostrils were assailed by a strong odour of leather and horseflesh. She shuddered in spite of herself. It was the last straw.
It remained for me still to investigate the scenes of the route by which Lord Clyde came in on both his advances; but to do justice to these would demand separate articles. Let me begin the hasty sketch at the Dilkoosha Palace, two miles and more away to the east of the Residency; for on both occasions the Dilkoosha was Clyde's base.
For some hours she had been annoyed by the behaviour of a man several seats away. Whenever she had glanced in his direction he had been looking at her. Once he had smiled ingratiatingly. Clyde's life had not included first-hand experiences of this kind, but she was able to classify the man accurately. Still, there had been nothing definite to complain of.
Clyde's comfortable barn hove in sight, or in response to Alec's pleading, Chula gave a low whinny, and her mistress, looking into Alec's face which was lifted for her approval, smiled. "That was plucky Blue Bonnet's riding the mare home yesterday," Alec remarked at the breakfast-table next morning. "What was that?" asked the General. Alec explained. "It was plucky," Knight remarked.
I'm getting compliments from everybody to-night. I'm really flattered. I want to hear some more." "Better not," he advised apprehensively. "But I want to." "Ya-as," Simon drawled again. "Hyas kloshe tenas klootchman ah-ha. What name you callum?" "Missee Clyde Bullaby," Feng replied, making a manful attempt at Clyde's surname, which was quite beyond his lingual attainments. "Clyde!"
"Put up what fish I can with a short crew," said Boyd. "We'll lose a lot of money." "Probably." Clyde's tone was querulous as he continued: "I'm sorry I ever went into this thing. You bet if I had known as much in Chicago as I know now, I would have hung on to my money and stayed at home." "You knew as much as we did," Boyd declared, curtly. "Oh, it's all right for you to talk.
J. C. Sumner and William H. Dunn are my boatmen in the "Emma Dean"; then follows "Kitty Clyde's Sister," manned by W. H. Powell and G. Y. Bradley; next, the "No Name," with O. G. Howland, Seneca Howland, and Frank Goodman; and last comes the "Maid of the Canyon," with W. E. Hawkins and Andrew Hall.
"Well, sir," said Wyant calmly, "if you will trust me with it, I'll engage to take it safely to England and back, and to let no eye but Clyde's see it while it is out of your keeping." The doctor received this remarkable proposal in silence; then he burst into a laugh. "Upon my soul!" he said with sardonic good humor. It was Miss Lombard's turn to look perplexedly at Wyant.
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