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Updated: May 27, 2025
"No, but if you don't chase that buck over yonder behind the Professor's tent, I reckon you'll lose your rope," reminded the fat boy. Tad sprang to his feet, leaping over the tent ropes to the rear. A native had reached under and was hauling out Butler's lasso. Tad grabbed the fellow by an arm and sent him spinning. "You get out of here or I'll wallop you!" threatened the freckle-faced boy.
"Our own set!" echoed Mulrady feebly, blinking at her in astonishment, and then glancing hurriedly across at his freckle-faced son and the two Chinamen at work in the cabbages. "Oh, you know what I mean," said Mrs. Mulrady sharply; "the set that we move in. The Alvarados and their friends! Doesn't the old Don come here every day, and ain't his son the right age for Mamie?
No one would have thought of calling him so, this ragged, barefooted, freckle-faced Jack, who spent his days carrying market-baskets for the butcher, or clean clothes for Mrs. Quinn, selling chips, or grubbing in the ash-heaps for cinders.
She made a freckle-faced boy happy with a bright new dime, and sent him back to her men with instructions for them to pitch the tents permanently and proceed to make the spot the Julia headquarters of the outfit. She wired her thanks to Demarest and assured him that the order would go forward next day, if the dealers had it ready.
The pair strode back without another word, the Indian's admiration for the freckle-faced boy having increased greatly since Tad had beckoned him from the camp. Shortly after noon as they were casting about for a favorable place in which to make their mid-day halt, Ned Rector, who was riding to the right of the others, uttered a shout. "What is it?" cried Tad. "There has been a campfire here."
Wally came that afternoon, and Mary danced with him that is to say she danced with him until a freckle-faced apprentice came up from the factory with an envelope addressed in MacPherson's crabbed hand. Mary took one peep inside and danced no more.
The freckle-faced boy stopped reading and looked at the man and woman; the sleeping child stirred uneasily in her chair, and the black-haired boy straightened out his legs and looked over his shoulder. "Hello, Mother," he said heartily. The woman walked unsteadily to the curtained doorway leading into the dining-room and pulled aside the curtains. "Come here, Joe," she said.
But that he should be sitting there in a cheap negro laundry with absolutely no sentiment of any kind towards the heavy-haired, freckle-faced country schoolgirl opposite him, from whom he sought and expected nothing, and ENJOYING it without scorn of himself or his companion, to use his own expression, "got him." Presently he rose and sauntered to the table with shining eyes.
The freckle-faced boy looked carefully about on top of the deck-house for several minutes, in search of his lost knife, lighting match after match to aid him in his quest. He failed to find it. With a grunt of disappointment he again swung himself to the deck. The instant his feet touched the deck, Tad Butler met with a violent surprise. He was suddenly grabbed from behind.
My girl thinks if a man's clothes are all right he must be a Wall Street magnate, and the rest of the girls are just like her. They're the men that give the oil fields a shady side." In spite of his roughness, Bob liked the freckle-faced person, and he had proved that he was far from stupid. "You've evidently seen tricky oil men," he said guardedly. "Do you work in the oil fields?
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