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Updated: June 24, 2025
That fellow is like a hickory nut smooth on the outside, but hard, awfully hard, to get anything out of.... Old Man Curry is in this race with Elijah. Little far for him, isn't it?" In the very top row of the grand stand Grouchy Martin O'Connor waited for Al Engle. Just as the horses reached the post, the Sharpshooter slipped in, breathless and fumbling at the catch of his binocular case.
Here round the Roman Ratæ, the predecessor of our Leicester, settled a tribe known as the Middle English, while a small body pushed farther southward, and under the name of "South Engle" occupied the oölitic upland that forms our present Northamptonshire. But the mass of the invaders seem to have held to the line of the Trent and to have pushed westward to its head-waters.
Engle thinks that if he buys the black horse and wins a good race with him first time out it may pull the wool over Pettigrew's eyes. He says Eliphaz is a cinch in the Handicap next Saturday." Old Man Curry fingered his beard for some time in silence. "Blast the luck!" said he suddenly. "Why didn't I know Miles was arepresentin' Al Engle?" "You'd have said three thousand, eh?"
Engle, in her quarters above-stairs, ate her breakfast off a shingle with her husband's jack-knife, and when she had finished, sent them down to Lieutenant Foster for his accommodation. We were at the old mansion on the north side, and the news soon flew up the river that the Napoleon had gone off with "the plunder" and left the people behind. It was not long before we were supplied by Mrs.
She and Engle had asked themselves the question as soon as Virginia's note came to them: "What in the world were she and Norton doing on the mountainside at that time of night?" But they had no intention of asking it of any one else. Rather John Engle hastened to answer it for others. "Muchachos" he said to the men when he sent them back to San Juan, "there was an accident last night.
Within the half-hour Strove, Cutter, and Engle had apologized to Norton; after this, they promised him to keep their hands off and their mouths shut. That evening Virginia and Norton sat long together on Struve's veranda. There was more silence than talk between them.
Broad double doors in the west wall of the living-room gave entrance to the patio. When Norton and Florence Engle strolled out into the inviting patio Engle, breaking his silence, leaned forward and dominated the conversation. Virginia had been doing the major part of the talking, answering questions about Mrs. Engle's girlhood home, telling something of herself.
Virginia, recalling Jim Galloway as she had seen him on the stage, heavy-bodied, narrow-hipped, masterful alike in carriage and the look of the prominent eyes, glanced with Mrs. Engle toward Rod Norton. He was laughing at something passing between him and Florence, and for the moment appeared utterly boyish.
None of these issues were clouded, and in due time he decided upon all points. He gave up all thought of bed, made himself a pot of coffee and sat up all night, devoting himself to details. The cheque he had given Carr must be honoured; hence he must ride to-morrow to San Juan to see Engle, the banker. He was only a few hundred dollars short there and Engle would help him to balance the account.
Galloway's return brought to Roderick Norton a fresh vigilance, to Virginia a sleepless anxiety, to Florence Engle unrest, uncertainty, very nearly pure panic.
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