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Updated: June 29, 2025
In its streets are "penitents," wandering, in sackcloth and sandals, with a downcast look and a rope for self-castigation, among soldiers in new French uniforms and ladies in the latest Paris fashions. This is not the time for a favorable view of the valley from this point. To see it in its full glory, we must look upon it at sunrise. Folsom's Letters of Cortéz, p. 49. Bernal Diaz.
But Loring, after all, had the most thrilling story to tell of how he wormed a clew to Burleigh's hiding place out of a captured outlaw and beat up the party in a nook of the hills, nabbed the major asleep, but was warned that all the Birdsall "outfit" would rally to the rescue, and so sent a courier to Emory for "C" Troop, and, making wide détour to avoid the gang, ran slap into the Sioux in the act of firing Folsom's ranch.
He questioned the clerks at the corral, reconnoitered the neighborhood, asked what were their means of defense, turned inside out a worn yet shapely boot that had been the captain's, bade man after man to describe that worthy, and finally walked away from the depot, having picked up lots of information and imparted none. He spent some time at Folsom's that evening.
"But or no but," said Dean, "it's done now, and I'd do it again." There was no dinner party at Folsom's that evening. At two a messenger trotted out to the post with a note for Miss Folsom to apprise her of the fact, and without a word or change of color she put it into her pocket.
Then away they rode, athirst and blasphemous, and away sped Jimmy with his wondrous news, and out tumbled the loungers at Peter's bar, the judge and the sheriff last, and those who had horses mounted and galloped up to Folsom's and those who had not trudged enviously after, and a few minutes later there was gathered at the corral a panting and eager band of men, for thither had Mr.
Dawn of the second day came, and, unable to bear suspense, the major sent a little party, mounted on their fleetest horses, to scour the prairies at least halfway to the foothills of the Big Horn, and just at nightfall they came back three at least galloping like mad, their mounts a mass of foam. Folsom's dread was well founded.
Folsom's eyes were popping from his head. He sank into a chair, gazing up in consternation. "Don't you see, man!" said Pecksniff, "some one in the depot is short ten thousand dollars or so. Some one hoped to cover this shortage in just this way to send a little squad with a bogus package, and then turn loose the biggest gang of ruffians in the country.
The party was free to go as they came with the exception of Ledwith. They had a merry lunch, enlivened by a telegram from Lord Constantine, and by Folsom's discomfiture. Then Grahame drove away to the ship, Arthur set out for Dublin, and Honora was left alone with her dread and her sorrows, which Captain Sydenham swore would be the shortest of her life.
And it was she whose sudden and startling appearance at the rear gate had led to Folsom's throw so early the morning Burleigh and his mysterious friend were found missing from their quarters just after dawn the very morning Dean, with his treasure package and little escort, rode forth from Emory on that perilous mission the very morning that Birdsall and his murderous gang set forth from Gate City in pursuit.
Then, as Folsom's genial, powerful voice was heard in welcoming accents, and heavy footsteps came along the broad board walk, the woman straightened suddenly and, noiseless as before, hurried back across the room and came face to face with the daughter of the house. "Oh, Miss Folsom!" she faltered, her bosom heaving in violent agitation. "I did not know you were here.
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