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Updated: May 18, 2025
Yes, the trap was closed, and his only protection from the men riding behind was this half-living creature on his back. Out from the arched entrance to the patio ran a girl. She started back against the 'dobe wall of the house and threw up one hand as though a miracle had flashed across her vision.
Late this afternoon he came runnin' down the road, yellin' thet he was dyin'. The boys had conniption fits. Joel ain't over-liked, you know, an' here they had one on him. Mebbe they didn't try hard to clean him off. But the fact is not for hours did they get thet 'dobe off him. They washed an' scrubbed an' curried him, while he yelled an' cussed. Finally they peeled it off, with his skin I guess.
Each time Bartley raised in the stirrups, Dobe took it for a signal to lope. Finally Bartley caught the knack of leaning forward and riding a trot with a straight leg, and to his surprise he found it was a mighty satisfactory method and much easier than posting. The mesa trail was wide in reality a cross-country road, so Bartley had opportunity to try Dobe's different gaits.
The balls which found an entrance splintered through the bunks and buried themselves in the logs of the far wall. A third marksman worked on the lower crack. Puffs of 'dobe pulverized before Harris's eyes as the systematic fire crept toward him down the crack in six-inch steps. A flash of dust a few inches before his nose half blinded him.
You're to be stood up against a 'dobe wall and shot in two or three weeks three, I think, they said. "'Would you mind asking 'em which? says I. 'A week don't amount to much after you're dead, but it seems a real nice long spell while you are alive. "'It's two weeks, says the interpreter, after inquiring in Spanish of the court. 'Shall I ask 'em again?
"I seen you mouthin' him, after you had saddled him. How old would you say?" "Seven, going on eight." "Git along! And if anybody gits the best of you in a hoss-trade, wire me collect. It'll sure be news!" Bartley settled himself in the saddle and touched Dobe with the spurs. "Give my regards to Senator Steve and Cheyenne," called Wishful.
When they come to the 'dobe she give him a jerk, to show him he was to stand still there; and then she grabbed him close up to her, so she could whisper, and says: "It was here that Mr. Smith saw the ferocious animal's foot-marks almost precisely four hours ago. The habits of these creatures are so regular, as Mr.
"Perhaps Dobe left for home and the rest followed him," said Bartley. "Nope. Our hosses was roped and led south." Bartley stared at Cheyenne, whose usually placid countenance expressed indecision and worry. Cheyenne seemed positive about the missing horses. Then Bartley saw an expression in Cheyenne's eyes that indicated more sternness of spirit than he had given Cheyenne credit for.
The "little hombre," Chico Miguel, returning to his 'dobe that evening, was greeted with a tide of explanatory utterances that swept him off his feet.
And, say, Bartley, we've got a little surprise for you. One of my boys caught up your horse, old Dobe. Dobe was dragging a rope. Looks like he broke away from some one. I had him turned into the corral. Dobe was raised on this range." "Broke loose and came back!" exclaimed Bartley. "That's good news, Senator. I like that horse." "But Cheyenne is out of luck," said the Senator.
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