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Updated: May 11, 2025
Upon special request of a number of influential citizens of Placer, including the city marshal and other officials, expressed in mass-meeting, I have decided upon deserting that sagebrush metropolis to its just fate, and plan to add the influence of my presence to the future development of Glencaid.
"There's Glencaid now, Miss Spencer," he said, cheerfully, glad enough of an opportunity to change the topic of conversation. "That's the spire of the new Presbyterian church sticking up above the ridge." "Oh, indeed! How glad I am to be here safe at last!" "How eh did you happen to eh recognize the church?" asked McNeil with evident admiration. "You eh can't see it from the saloon."
Glencaid meanwhile recovered from its mania of lynch-law, and even began exhibiting some faint evidences of shame over what was so plainly a mistake. And the populace were also beginning to exhibit no small degree of interest in the weighty matters which concerned the fast-culminating love affairs of Miss Spencer.
This yere man, Bob Hampton, is my prisoner, an' I'll take him to Cheyenne, if I have ter brain every tough in Glencaid to do it. Thet's me, gents." "Oh, come off; you can't run your notions agin the whole blame moral sentiment of this camp." "Moral sentiment!
Your slashing at me down in Glencaid has n't left so much as a sting behind. It's completely blotted out, forgotten. I haven't the slightest desire to kill you, man; but I do want to clear my name of the stain of that crime. I want you to tell the whole truth about that night's work at Bethune; and when you have done so, you can go. I 'll never lay a finger on you; you can go where you please."
Once he paused and looked back upon ugly Glencaid, dingy and forlorn even at that distance; then he crossed the narrow stream by means of a convenient log, and clambered up the somewhat steep bank. A heavy fringe of low bushes clung close along the edge of the summit, but a plainly defined path led among their intricacies.
"Kill whom?" burst in Brant, springing down the bank fully awakened to the realization of some unknown emergency. "My dear Miss Spencer, tell me your story quickly if you wish me to act. Who is in danger, and from what?" The girl burst into tears, but struggled bravely through with her message. "It's those awful men, the roughs and rowdies down in Glencaid.
"They're called fer by another feller, sir." "Oh, they are! Who?" "Red Slavin wus the name he give me of thet other buck." When the two had disappeared, Brant sat back thinking rapidly. There was a mystery here, and such actions must have a cause. Something either in or about Glencaid was compelling Murphy to keep out of sight but what? Who?
"Sergeant!" The sharp snap of his voice brought that officer forward on the run. "Where are the men?" "Playin' ball, most of 'em, sir, just beyond the ridge." "Are the horses out in herd?" "Yes, sir." "Sound the recall; arm and mount every man; bring them into Glencaid on the gallop. Do you know the old Shasta mine?" "No, sir." "Half-way up the hill back of the hotel.
You love him, don't you, Naida?" The girl flashed a shy look into the beaming, inquisitive face. "I don't know," she confessed, soberly. "I have not even seen him for such a long time; but but, I guess, he is more to me than any one else " "Not seen him? Do you mean to say Mr. Hampton is not here in Glencaid? Why, I am so sorry; I was hoping to meet him."
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