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Updated: May 6, 2025
He'll not interfere." The handle of the door turned slowly. "You keep watch on the post-office, Jo," he added. Goatry came round the opening door with a grin. "Hope I don't intrude," he said, stealing a half-leering look at the girl. As soon as he saw her face, however, he straightened himself up and took on different manners.
"Hi, there, you damned sucker!" he called after Goatry, and then saw Foyle waiting. "What the hell !" he said fiercely, his hand on something in his hip pocket. "Keep quiet, Dorl. I want to have a little talk with you. Take your hand away from that gun take it away," he added with a meaning not to be misunderstood.
There was a red trickle at the temple. He had chosen the best way out. "He had the pluck," said Goatry, as Foyle swung round with a face of misery. A moment afterward came a rush of people. Goatry kept them back. "Sergeant Foyle arrested Halbeck, and Halbeck's shot himself," Goatry explained to them. A white-faced girl with a scar on her temple made her way into the room.
Goatry held out his hand. "I'm with you. If you get him this time, clamp him, clamp him like a tooth in a harrow." Halbeck had stopped his horse at the post-office door. Dismounting he looked quickly round, then drew the reins over the horse's head, letting them trail, as is the custom of the West. A few swift words passed between Goatry and Foyle.
Goatry, who had handed the horse over to the hostler, watched them coming. "Why did I never notice the likeness before?" Goatry said to himself. "But, gosh! what a difference in the men. Foyle's going to double cinch him this time, I guess." He followed them inside the hall of the Happy Land. When they stepped into the sitting-room, he stood at the door waiting.
Variations in atmosphere, condition of ammunition, and the wear of the gun are the contributory causes to the ever-varying "Error of the Day." "Say, ain't he pretty?" "A Jim-dandy oh, my!" "What's his price in the open market?" "Thirty millions I think not." Then was heard the voice of Billy Goat his name was William Goatry
Has any one seen him?" "Only Billy Goatry," he answered, working his way to a solution of the dark problem. "Only Billy Goatry knows him. The fellow that led the singing that was Goatry." "There he is now," he added, as Billy Goat passed the window. She came and laid a hand on his arm. "We've got to settle things with him," she said. "If Dorl comes, Nett "
There was silence for a moment, then he caught her hand in his and held it. "If he comes, leave him to me, Jo. You will leave him to me?" he added anxiously. "Yes," she answered. "You'll do what's right-by Bobby?" "And by Dorl, too," he replied strangely. There were loud footsteps without. "It's Goatry," said Foyle. "You stay here. I'll tell him everything. He's all right; he's a true friend.
Goatry, who had handed the horse over to the hostler, watched them coming. "Why did I never notice the likeness before?" Goatry said to himself. "But, gosh! what a difference in the men. Foyle's going to double cinch him this time, I guess." He followed them inside the hall of the Happy Land. When they stepped into the sitting-room, he stood at the door waiting.
"Hi, there, you damned sucker!" he called after Goatry, and then saw Foyle waiting. "What the hell !" he said, fiercely, his hand on something in his hip-pocket. "Keep quiet, Dorl. I want to have a little talk with you. Take your hand away from that gun take it away!" he added, with a meaning not to be misunderstood.
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