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Updated: June 6, 2025
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.
She did not reply, for she was looking down the street, and presently she started as she gazed. She laid a hand suddenly on Foyle's arm. "See he's come," she said, in a whisper, and as though not realizing Goatry's presence. "He's come." Goatry looked, as well as Foyle. "Halbeck the devil!" he said. Foyle turned to him. "Stand by, Goatry. I want you to keep a shut mouth. I've work to do."
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 "
Then was heard the voice of Billy Goat his name was William Goatry "Out in the cold world, out in the street; Nothing to wear, and nothing to eat, Fatherless, motherless, sadly I roam, Child of misfortune, I'm driven from home." A loud laugh followed, for Billy Goat was a popular person at Kowatin in the Saskatchewan country.
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.
He had not been so intoxicated as he had made out, and he seemed only "mellow" as he stood before them, with his corrugated face and queer, quaint look, the eye with the cast in it blinking faster than the other. "It's all right, Goatry," said Foyle. "This lady is one of my family from the East." "Goin' on by stage?" Goatry said, vaguely, as they shook hands.
"I'll do this myself, Jo," he whispered to the girl presently. "Go into another room. I'll bring him here." In another minute Goatry was leading the horse away from the post-office, while Foyle stood waiting quietly at the door. The departing footsteps of the horse brought Halbeck swiftly to the doorway, with a letter in his hand.
"I'll do this myself, Jo," he whispered to the girl presently. "Go into another room. I'll bring him here." In another minute Goatry was leading the horse away from the post-office, while Foyle stood waiting quietly at the door. The departing footsteps of the horse brought Halbeck swiftly to the doorway, with a letter in his hand.
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.
She did not reply, for she was looking down the street, and presently she started as she gazed. She laid a hand suddenly on Foyle's arm. "See he's come," she said in a whisper, and as though not realising Goatry's presence. "He's come." Goatry looked as well as Foyle. "Halbeck the devil!" he said. Foyle turned to him. "Stand by, Goatry. I want you to keep a shut mouth. I've work to do."
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