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Updated: June 4, 2025
Before they had ridden a mile down the mountainous road Conniston heard Kent whistle softly, and ahead of them, coming to meet them, saw a light pole buggy swiftly approaching. A moment later and the man driving had stopped his horses and was looking with small, shrewd eyes into Conniston's. He was a short man, round of face, round of eyes, round of stomach.
This thing had leaped out upon him unawares, and he was half afraid of the responsibility which had fastened itself upon his shoulders. For, after all, Greek Conniston had not yet entirely found himself, was not sure of himself. Brow drawn and anxious, watchful, deeply thoughtful, Conniston did not see Mr. Crawford until the buckboard driven by Half-breed Joe had stopped close behind him.
Hapgood waited as long as he could for Conniston to go on, and when there came no further information he asked, incredulously: "You don't mean that, do you, Greek? You don't intend to stop off all alone out here in this rotten wilderness?" "Yes, I do. If you won't stop with me." "But how about me? What am I to do? Here I am busted! What do you think I'm going to do?"
Don't stop to saddle, but ride like the very devil out to Brayley's camp. Tell him what has happened. Tell him to rush fifty men on horseback to me. Tell him to see that each man takes two canteens full of water. And, for Heaven's sake, Billy, hurry!" Billy Jordan, terror springing up into his own eyes, sped through the door. And Conniston and Garton turned grave faces upon each other.
Conniston reeled, and before he could catch himself a second blow caught him under the ear, and with outflung arms he pitched backward and fell, striking the back of his head upon the rough boards of the floor. For one dizzy moment the world went black for him. And then it went red, flaming, flaring red, as he heard a man's laugh.
And then, as the sun had played in the girl's hair, a new emotion passed over McDowell's face, and Keith saw for the first time the man whom Derwent Conniston had known as a friend as well as a superior. He rose from his chair, and leaning over the table said in a voice in which were mingled both amazement and pleasure: "We were just talking about the devil and here you are, sir!
He ran his tongue along his swollen lips, but said no word until Conniston had washed and taken his own chair. Then he spoke, his words coming with slow distinctness. "Conniston jumped me this mornin. I had a lickin' comin' to me. You boys know why. An' I got it." He stopped suddenly, his eyes watchful upon the faces about him.
Conniston frowned into the eyes which were fixed intently upon him. "You know best. I am ready to do what I can to help out. I think I can promise you to keep the work going until you can get a man to take his place." Mr. Crawford bent a long, searching regard upon him. And when he spoke it was slowly, sternly. "What am I paying you, Conniston?" "Forty-five dollars a month." "All right.
Keith sensed the pain of it in the convulsive clutching of Conniston's fingers about his own. When Conniston raised his face, the red stain was on his lips again. "You see, I've got it figured out to the day," he went on, wiping away the stain with a cloth already dyed red. "This is Thursday. I won't see another Sunday. It'll come Friday night or some time Saturday.
A quick blow of the quirt and the forelegs sought earth again, and Conniston began to realize what it was to ride a bucking bronco.
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