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Updated: June 11, 2025
'Oh, is that the way with her? said Dud, knocking out the ashes of his pipe on a tombstone, and replacing the Turkish utensil in his pocket. 'Well, then, old lass, good-bye, and he shook her hand.
The defenders crouched back to back in the pit, each of them searching the thicket for an angle of one hundred and eighty degrees. The sound of the battle died down. Evidently the pursuers were out of contact with the natives. "Don't like that," Dud said. "If the Utes have time they'll try to pick us up as they're passin'." Bob fired. "See one?" asked his friend. "Think so. Something moved.
They're sure enough on the warpath." Harshaw took the matter seriously. He gave crisp orders to his riders to cover the creeks and warn all settlers to leave for Bear Cat or Meeker. Dud and Bob were assigned Milk Creek. It was hard for the young fellows, as they rode through a land of warm sunshine, to believe that there actually was another Indian outbreak.
Bob told his story without sparing himself. Blister listened and made no comment to the end. "You're takin' that Ute business too s-serious," he said. "Gettin' s-scalped 's no picnic. You're entitled to feel some weak at the knees. I've heard from Dud. He says you stood up fine." "He told you ?" "N-no particulars. T-trouble with you is you've got too much imagination.
At present their efforts seemed bent on killing themselves; for Jim Norris and Dud Fielding, sturdy fellows of fourteen, were doing stunts on the flying trapeze worthy of professional acrobats; while Dan Dolan, swinging from a high bar, was urging little Fred Neville to a precarious poise on his shoulder. Freddy was what may be called a perennial "left over."
He then bade Mary a "Dud by" in bad English, and set off in a run in a northern direction for the purpose of joining the whites. Long and interminable seemed Mary's confinement to her, but she was entirely comfortable in her hiding-place, as respected her body. Yet many dreadful apprehensions oppressed her still.
"Oh, I'm soft in the haid," Dud grunted. "Gonna trail along. I'll tell you right now I ain't lost Houck any, but if you're set on this fool business, why, I'll take a whirl with you." "Good old Dud," Bob beamed. "I'll bet we get away with it fine." "Crazy old Dud," the owner of the name grumbled. "I'll bet we get our topknots scalped."
And why should I be driving with her to fairs, or to church, or to meeting, by jingo! for they say she's a Quaker with a babby on each knee, only to please them as will be dead and rotten when I'm only beginning? 'Ah, you are such charming fellow; always the same always sensible. So I and my friend we will walk home again, and you go see Maggie Hawkes. Good-a-by, Dud good-a-by.
Weel, Dud, are ye glad? Ye hae killt yer first moose!" "Yes," said Hemenway, "it's my first moose. But it's your first moose, too. And I think it's our last. Ye gods, what a fighter!" "You must write a novel," said my Uncle Peter to the young Man of Letters. "The novel is the literary form in which the psychological conditions of interest are most easily discovered and met.
George was away looking after the pack-horses, Dud was cooking breakfast, and Big Bill, his rifle close at hand, was chopping young firs fifty feet back of the camp. The cook also had a gun, loaded with buckshot, lying on a box beside him, so that they were taking no chances with their prisoner. He could not have covered twenty yards without being raked by a cross-fire.
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