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Dewing, evenly enough, shifted his thoughtful gaze upon tall Eric, seemingly without resentment for the outburst. "Well, wasn't he insultin' the boys then?" demanded Eric. "I guess you're right, there," Mayer Zurich admitted. "I was not at all in favor of taking so many of them in on this proposition; but I'm not afraid of them doin' me dirt, now they're in.
They made a pack; they saddled horses; they filled canteens and rifles. Slim's car came to Cobre at half-past nine. The message from Dewing ran thus: For Fishhook Mountain. Benavides, S., J., and another. Ten words. Five minutes later the four confederates thundered south through the night.
I now make the direct appeal to you, Eric: As a candid man or mouse, what would you do next?" Tall Eric bent his brows darkly at the gambler. "If you mean that I fear the man Johnson at all, why do you not use tongue and lips to say that same? I am not greatly chafed by an open enemy, but I am no great hand to sit down under a mock." "It was your own word the mice," said Dewing.
Let's go in." They marched in. The barroom was deserted; Tucson was hardly awakened from siesta as yet. From the open door of a side room came a murmur of voices. "Where's Rhiny?" demanded Pete of the bartender. "Rhiny don't own the place now. Sold out and gone." "Shucks!" said Pete. "That's too bad. Where'd he go?" "Don't know. You might ask the boss." He raised his voice: "Hey, Dewing!
"What are you going to do or take water?" "Won't there ever be any more hands of poker dealt?" asked Pete. "If I thought this was to be the last hand ever played, I'd sure plunge right smart on this bunch of mine." "Weakening, eh?" sneered Dewing. "That's enough, Pete," said Boland, very much vexed. "We're playing table stakes. This is no way to do. Show what you've got and let's get out of this."
"If you feel that way about it, old-timer," he said as he raked back his remainder of unimperiled chips, "you can go down in your pocket." "That's all right," said Dewing. "We'll suspend the rules, seeing there's no one in the pot but Johnson and me. This game, I take it, is going to break up right now and leave somebody feeling mighty sore. If you're so sure you've got me beat dig up!"
"Are you sure you had your spur here?" asked Dewing. "Maybe you lost it before and didn't notice it." "Oh, never mind the spur," said Stan. "I'm satisfied to get my money. Let's wait for Little Boy Blue and we'll all go in together." "Want to try a little game to-night?" suggested Dewing. "I could use that money of yours. It seems a likely bunch if it's all money. Pretty plump wallet, I call it."
Dewing send it to a publisher, who said it was clever, but had no plot. If I only could get a plot!" Honora laughed. "How would I The Transformation of Mr. Chiltern' do, Elsie?" "If I only knew what's happened to him, and how he's going to end!" sighed Mrs. Shorter.
He discarded two and laid before him, face up on the table, a pair of eights and an ace of hearts. "I'm going to trim you fellows this time. Aces and eights have never been beaten yet." "Damn you! Here's one eight you won't get," said Scotty; he turned over his hand, exposing the eight of clubs. "Mustn't expose your cards unnecessarily," said Dewing reprovingly. "It spoils the game."
The sheet was shortened, and the Folly obediently headed westward against the swell, flinging rainbows from her bows as she ran. Mrs. Shorter and Dewing returned at this moment from the cabin, where they had been on a tour of inspection. "Where are you taking us, Hugh?" said Mrs. Shorter. "Nowhere in particular," he replied. "Please don't forget that I am having people to dinner to-night.
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