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Updated: May 15, 2025
A shrill call told him that the pursuers had discovered the body of their fellow. Dex, with ears laid back, took the ragged grade in great, uneven leaps that shortened to a regular stride as they gained the level of the valley. Glancing back, Waring saw Ramon but a few yards behind. He signaled to him to ride closer.
"And if you behave yourself well, perhaps we shall shorten it into Dex." "Dick's better," said the boy sharply. "No, it is not, sir; Dex." "Well, Dix, then," said the boy, throwing one stone up high enough to touch the ceiling, and in catching at it over-handed, failing to achieve his object, and striking it instead, so that it flew against the wall with a loud rap.
He had dismounted to tighten the cinches when he thought he heard voices in argument. He mounted again. The men must have ridden hard to have made such good time. Again he heard voices. The men were near the mouth of the arroyo. Waring tossed his hat to the ground and dropped his gauntlets beside his hat. Carefully he wiped his sweating hands on his bandanna. Dex threw up his head.
Well, you get somethin' to eat, and then throw a saddle on Dex and I'll give you a couple of letters to take to The Junction. And, come to think, you might as well keep right on fannin' it for Stacey and home. They can use you over to the ranch. The missus and me'll take care of Señor Jim." "I take the letter," said Ramon, "but I am come back. I am with the Señor Jim where he goes."
"I certainly will!" the red-haired girl cried defiantly. "What I can't see is why Tracey and Lois and Dex Mr. Sprague didn't think of it, too. It's as plain as " "Yes, as the nose on my face," Dundee cut in grimly, but with a glance at Strawn. "Just stick to the facts, however, Miss Raymond, and maybe we can all agree with you." "Well, when Mr.
From buckle to tongue it glittered with cartridges and a service-worn holster bulged with a short-barreled Colt's .45. He handed the belt to Lorry. "It's a good gun," he said, "and I hope you'll never need to use it." Lorry stammered his thanks, untied Dex, and gave the reins into Waring's hand. "The trade goes," he said. "But we change saddles." "Correct," said Waring.
The Swedes are crazy; they've hired all the lawyers in town, and are murdering more good American language than would fill Bering Strait. Dex is in favor of getting our friends together and throwing the receiver off. He wants to kill somebody, but we can't do that. They've got the soldiers to fall back on. We've been warned that the troops are instructed to enforce the court's action.
The moving dot was a Mexican, a horseman riding alone. He rode fast. Waring could see the rise and fall of a quirt. "Some one killing a horse to get somewhere," he muttered, and he saddled Dex and waited. The tiny figure drew nearer. Dex grew restless. Waring quieted him with a word. To the west of the chaparral lay the trail, paralleled at a distance of a half-mile by the railroad.
"Slapjack and Dex are out at the shaft house you know that quartz claim on the mountain above the Midas." He hesitated. "Will you lend me your saddle-horse? It's a black night and I may kill him." "What about these men in town?" "I'll warn them first, then hit for the hills." She shook her head. "You can't do it.
I fought for her to-night Dex the way he used to fight for his sweethearts along the Mexicos. She's too beautiful to be good and 'there's never a law of God or man runs north of Fifty-three." They moved on, his vibrant, cynical laughter stabbing the girl till she leaned against the yawl for support.
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