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Updated: June 6, 2025
Scarcely had he done so when heavy steps, with accompaniment of clinking spurs, passed through the door below into the cabin. "Wal, Beasley, are you here?" queried a loud voice. There was no reply. The man below growled under his breath, and again the spurs jingled. "Fellars, Beasley ain't here yet," he called. "Put the hosses under the shed. We'll wait." "Wait, huh!" came a harsh reply.
Jack ordered the drinks, saying: "You fellars think I haint got no sense, but I'll bet yer's long's I's got two kerds to yer's one." While old Jack was paying the barkeeper for the drams I put a pencil mark on the boy ticket, and my friend saw me do it. I then offered to make another bet. Old Jack said: "I'll bet $10 this time." I told him to put up, and he did.
We only got three out of four, an' let the best redskin give us the slip. Here fall is nigh on us, with winter comin' soon, an' still we don't know who's the white traitor in the settlement." "I said it's be a long, an' mebbe, our last trail." "Why?" "Because these fellars red or white, are in with a picked gang of the best woodsmen as ever outlawed the border. We'll get the Fort Henry hoss-thief.
"Moses be keerful what you say, for some of the same fellars might have you hauled up for definition of character, and some of them can afford to do it too, for I believe there are honest ones among 'em. Indeed, I know of one."
"An' I seen another man ridin' down into Pine from the other side. Thet was Riggs, only I didn't know it then. Las Vegas rode up to the store, where some fellars was hangin' round, an' he spoke to them. When I come up they was all headin' for Turner's saloon. I seen a dozen hosses hitched to the rails. Las Vegas rode on. But I got off at Turner's an' went in with the bunch.
"These fellars, sir," said Beale, having expressed his gratification, "they've bin and scattered most of them birds already, sir. They've bin chasin' of them this half-hour back." Ukridge groaned. "Scoundrels! Demons!" Beale went off.
Shore we cain't figger it thet way now. But later when we ketch a thousand haid we may try it." "A thousand head! Blinky, are you still on the ground? You're talkin' fifteen thousand dollars." "Shore. An' I'm tellin' you, Pan, thet we can make it. But ketchin' these wild hosses in any number hasn't been done yet. Hardman has an outfit ridin'. But them fellars couldn't get away from their own dust.
So they tuk him to the horspittle, 'n Larks he up an' died there yestiddy. So us fellars we're goin' to give Larks a stylish funeril, you bet. We liked Larks an' it went over his back. Say, mister, there ain't nothin' mean 'bout us, come to buryin' of Larks; 'n we've voted to settle on one them 'Gates Ajar' pieces made o'flowers, doncherknow.
About dawn Lawson and Stewart straggled in on spent horse and found awaiting them a bright fire, a hot supper and cheery comrades. "Did yu fellars git to see him?" was the ranger's first question. "Did we get to see him?" echoed five lusty voice as one. "We did!" It was after Frank, in his plain, blunt speech had told of our experience, that the long Arizonian gazed fixedly at Jones.
"An' Mac, the best an' dirtiest job we've had on this," Casey's huge hand indicated a row of freshly filled graves, "U. P. was the plantin' of thim fellars," over which the desert sand was seeping. Then dropping his spade, he bent to the quiet figure. "Lay hold, Mac," he said. They lowered the corpse into the hole. Casey stood up, making a sign of the cross before him. "He wor a man!"
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