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Updated: May 14, 2025
There was a flash of the dog's long body, which grew smaller and smaller in the distance; then a puff of dust spurted up. Fadeaway saw the dog turn end over end, regain his feet and toss something in the air. "The fastest dog in Arizona," remarked the cowboy. "And you, you glass-eyed son of a mistake, you're about as fast as a fence-post!"
Carson had been practicing on what he called a fadeaway ball, and now he thought this would be just the right thing to offer Sam. He wound up with a great flourish, and sent the sphere in. Sam was on his guard, and calculated just right. His bat came around in a clean sweep, and on the instant the ball was flying down towards deep center. "My! look at that!" "Run, Rover, run!"
Thanks, just the same, Fade." "Sure! Well, I guess I'll be goin'." "Wait a minute. Don't be in a rush. I was thinking . . ." Fadeaway strode to the window and stood looking out on the street. His apparent indifference was effective. "Say, Fade, do you think we could could get away with it?" "With what?" exclaimed the cowboy, turning. "Oh, you know! What you said yesterday."
The younger man knew that an appeal to the law would be futile so long as he chose to ignore that clause in the will which covered the contingency he was illustrating by his conduct. Fadeaway again cautioned him as he became loud in his invective against his brother.
Then he closed the door and stooping laid his saddle and blankets against it. "He can't make a break that way," he said to himself. As Sundown came in, the man noticed that the front door creaked shrilly when opened or closed and seemed pleased with the fact. "Too bad about Fadeaway," he said, helping himself to more coffee. "Wonder who got him?" "I dunno.
After he had eaten, Fadeaway rolled his few belongings in his slicker and tied it to the saddle. He was not afraid of Corliss, but like men of his stamp he wanted Corliss to know that he was not alone unafraid, but willing to be aggressive. He mounted and rode up to the ranch-house.
Corliss allowed himself to smile, a very little. "You better ride back with me," he said, quietly. Fadeaway laughed. "I'm takin' orders from the Blue, these days," he said. "Mebby you forgot." "No, I haven't." "And I'm headed for the Blue," continued the cowboy. "Goin' my way?" "You're on the wrong trail," asserted Corliss. "You've been riding the wrong trail ever since you left the Concho."
Shoop's gun jumped from its holster and covered the sheep-man. "If one of your lousy herders done this, he'll graze clost to hell to-night with the rest of your dam' sheep!" he cried. "Easy, Bud!" cautioned Wingle. "The boss ain't passed over yet. Bill, you help Sinker here get the boss back home. The rest of you boys hit the trail for the Blue. Fadeaway is like to be up in that country."
I'm fired, ain't I?" "Correct. Only I was thinkin' your cayuse is all in. You couldn't get out of sight on him tonight. But you can take one of my string and send it back when you get ready." "Oh, I ain't sweatin' to hit the trail," said Fadeaway, for the benefit of his audience. "All right, Fade. But the boss is. It's up to you."
Which may have been true enough, for Sundown would undoubtedly have been afraid to use the weapon and Fadeaway might have misunderstood his bungling. In his spare time he built a lean-to of odds and ends, and beneath it Chance drowsed away the long, sunny hours while Sundown was rustling firewood or holding hot argument with an obstreperous dutch-oven.
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