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Updated: June 15, 2025
Perhaps your cousin would object," he suggested, turning to Dicksie; "but no, I think we can manage that. Now what are we going to do? You two can't go back to-night, that is certain." "We must." "Then you will have to go in boats," said Whispering Smith. "But the hill road?" "There is five feet of water across it in half a dozen places. I swam my horse through, so I ought to know."
He clinched the bench-rail and rose slowly to his feet. Marion sat motionless in the hickory chair; the sun was shining in her face and her hands were folded in her lap. Dicksie rocked on the porch. In the shadow of the house the man was mending the saddle.
"I can disguise myself to look like an old woman," Beth rejoined, thinking of Aunt Victoria's auburn front and some of her old things. "Oh no, Beth!" Alfred protested. "That would be worse than the whiskers." "Can't you come as a boy?" said Dicksie. "I believe I can," Beth exclaimed. "There's an old suit of Jim's somewhere that would be the very thing one he grew out of.
Dicksie kept her hands on his shoulders. "You have heard from Whispering Smith!" "I have." "I knew it!" "Wait till I get it straight. Mr. Bucks is here I came in with him in his car. He has news of Whispering Smith.
"I've wanted so long to say this, Dicksie, that I might as well be dead as to try to keep it back any longer. That's why I want to ride home with you if you are going to let me." He turned to stroke her horse's head. Dicksie stood seemingly helpless. McCloud slipped his finger into his waistcoat pocket and held something out in his hand.
It's up to me to make good, you know, in about four hours with a lot of men and material. Aren't you going to take off your hat? and your gloves are soaking wet." McCloud took down the receiver, and Dicksie put her hands slowly to her head to unpin her hat. It was a broad hat of scarlet felt rolled high above her forehead, and an eagle's quill caught in the black rosette swept across the front.
"Marion, no man in this part of the country has a good word to say for Whispering Smith." "Perhaps you have forgotten, Dicksie, that you live in a very rough part of the country," returned Marion coolly. "No man that he has ever hunted down would have anything pleasant to say about him; nor would the friends of such a man be likely to say a good word of him.
When she got in, she wondered what had become of Alfred and Dicksie, and she was conscious of a curious sort of suspense, which, however, did not amount to anxiety.
McCloud." "I don't care I won't do it. I will never do it, not if every foot of the ranch tumbles into the river. I hope it will! Nobody cares anything about me. I have no friends but thieves and outlaws." "Dicksie!" Marion rose. "That is what you said." "I did not. I am your friend. How dare you call me names?" demanded Marion, taking the petulant girl in her arms.
And she also saw her new acquaintance coming towards her, balancing himself on the slippery, wrack-grown rocks, in boots and things that were much too good for the purpose; but Alfred and Dicksie never appeared, and were not to be found of her imagination. They were nowhere.
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