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Updated: May 1, 2025
I say, got stung?" "A little," I said. "Never mind; dock's the thing to cure that. All right. Gone. Now then, over the stile, and do as I do." He crept over the stile, and into the field, and began to run down beside the hedge in a stooping position, while I followed suit, and we did not rise up till we gained the shelter of the trees. "There we are! This is the beginning of the woods.
"He's a tough one, all right," Carl was saying as they walked on together, and heard the three dogs barking in the Phillips' yard. "Yes," admitted his chum, "Dock's a hard customer, but not so very smart when you come right down to it. He fell headlong into my trap, which is a very old one with lawyers who wish to coax a man to betray his guilt."
Weary's gloved hand dropped in despair from Old Dock's bent shoulder. "Damn a drunkard!" he said bitterly, and got into the saddle. "Rusty, I'll want to borrow that calico cayuse uh yours. Have him saddled up right away, will yuh? I'll be back in a little bit."
As far as he could see moved a long solemn procession of hills covered with splotches and serpentine lines of grays, olives, yellows an ocean in motley. The great waves wove these sinuous markings up and down, in and out, confusing the eye with changing mazes. Madden went forward and studied the nearer formations under the dock's prow. This astonishing effect was caused by seaweed.
There it all lay; the "ragged thistle stalk," with its head chopped off; "the dock's harsh swart leaves bruised as to balk all hope of greenness." "As for the grass, it grew scantier than hair in leprosy; thin dry leaves pricked the mud, which underneath looked kneaded up with blood!" It was the self-same field that Roland crossed!
Tom and Carl talked this fact over and arrived at a conclusion, which may, and again may not, have been the true explanation. "Dock's getting tired of holding down his job," Tom had said, "He's been out of school so long now that he can't be sent back; and he doesn't like hard work either.
"You mean about saying it was a paper that had been lost?" said Carl. "Yes, you fairly staggered him when you asked him how he knew that." "There's no question about Dock's being the guilty one," asserted Tom. "He gave himself away the worst kind then. The only thing we have to do is to try and get the truth from him. Sooner or later it's got to be found out."
"If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk All hope of greenness? 'tis a brute must walk Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents."
"Oh, 'e vos a great fav'rite vith the Quality," nodded Mottle-face. "Ah! it vos a dream to see 'im 'andle the ribbons, an' spit? Lord! it vos a eddication to see my feyther spit, I should say so! Vun young blood a dock's son he vere too vent an' 'ad a front tooth drawed a purpose, but I never 'eard as it done much good; bless you, to spit like my feyther you must be born to it!"
Too bad you had all your work for nothing, Carl." "Oh! the work didn't amount to much," said the other boy, despondently; "but after hoping for such great things through our plan it's hard to feel that you're up in the air as bad as ever." "We might try it all over again some time, after Dock's kind of forgotten about this happening," suggested Tom.
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