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Updated: June 12, 2025
What would Bostil and Holley and Farlane say at sight of Wildfire? Suppose Wildfire was to enter the races! It was probable that he could run away from the whole field even beat the King. Lucy thrilled and thrilled. What a surprise it would be! She had the rider's true love of seeing the unheralded horse win over the favorite.
He had the expression of a man who hardly believed what he saw. "Did you have any trouble gettin' away, without tellin' about me?" he asked. "No. But I sure had a job with those packs," she replied. "You must be a wonder with a horse." As far as vanity was concerned Lucy had only one weakness and he had touched upon it. "Well, Dad and Holley and Farlane argue much about me.
"Wal, Miss Lucy, the King sure looks good," said Farlane, as she jumped off and flung him the bridle. "He's just had about right, judgin'.... Say, girl, you're all pale! Oh, say, you wasn't scared of the King, now?" "No," replied Lucy, panting. "Wal, what's up, then?" The rider spoke in an entirely different voice, and into his clear, hazel eyes a little dark gleam shot.
"Ow, is he there?" said Nicie. "I'll maybe get sicht, gien I dinna get word o' him. He cam ance to the kitchen-door to see me, but Mistress Mac Farlane wadna lat him in. She wad hae nae loons comin' aboot the place she said. I said 'at hoo he was my brither. She said, says she, that was naething to her, an' she wad hae no brithers.
Sears was not drunk, neither was he wholly free from the unsteadiness caused by the bottle. Assuredly he had no fear of Bostil and eyed him insolently. Bostil turned away to the group of his riders and friends, and he asked for his daughter. "Lucy's over there," said Farlane, pointing to a merry crowd.
"Joel Creech waylaid me out in the sage and and tried to catch me." Lucy checked herself. It might not do to tell how Joel had tried to catch her. "He did? An' you on the King!" Farlane laughed, as if relieved. "Wal, he's tried thet before. Miss Lucy. But when you was up on the gray thet shows Joel's crazy, sure." "He sure is. Farlane, I I am mad!" "Wal, cool off, Miss Lucy.
"Mebbe Slone got out because of somethin' thet come off last night.... Now, Joel Creech an' an' " Bostil waited to hear no more. What did he care about the idiot Creech? He strode down the lane to the corrals. Farlane, Van, and other riders were there, leisurely as usual. Then Holley appeared, coming out of the barn. He, too, was easy, cool, natural, lazy. None of these riders knew what was amiss.
He looked tired, and Lucy knew he had been drinking, because when he had been he never offered to kiss her. The strange, somber shade was still on his face, but it brightened somewhat at sight of her. Lucy greeted him as always. "Farlane tells me you handled the King great better 'n Van has worked him lately," said Bostil. "But don't tell him I told you." That was sweet praise from Farlane.
It is the word magnus; the Scotchman makes of it his mac, which designates the chief of the clan; Mac-Farlane, Mac-Callumore, the great Farlane, the great Callumore ; slang turns it into meck and later le meg, that is to say, God. Would you like Basque? Here is gahisto, the devil, which comes from gaiztoa, evil; sorgabon, good night, which comes from gabon, good evening. Do you want Celtic?
"Bostil, my one chance was ruined an' you know who did it," replied Slone, as he gathered Nagger's rope and Wildfire's bridle together. "I've no hard feelin's.... But I can't sell you my horse. An' I can't ride for you because well, because it would breed trouble." "An' what kind?" queried Bostil. Holley and Farlane and Van, with several other riders, had come up and were standing open-mouthed.
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