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Updated: June 28, 2025
It recalled old associations, some of them pleasant, some of them sad. And as he stood near Lois Huntington, on the edge of the throng that filled the large apartment where the stage had been constructed, during the first three or four numbers he was rather more in Gumbolt than in that gay company in that brilliant room.
Within a half-hour after their arrival the sheriff and his party, with Dave Dennison at the head of the posse, were on their horses, headed for the scene of the "hold-up." Dave could have had half of Gumbolt for posse had he desired it.
He turned away, and Keith seated himself beside her. Her face and hands were swathed in bandages. "I want to say good-by," she said feebly. "You don't mind now what I said to you that time?" Keith, for answer, stroked the coverlid beside her. "I want to go back home to Gumbolt. Tell the boys good-by for me." Keith said he would as well as he could, for he had little voice left.
Plume to say, he always deplored, and doubtless with sincerity. Women were at a premium in Gumbolt, and Mr. Plume was not the only person who hymned the praises of "Terpsichoar," as she was mainly called.
Wickersham gave a grunt, then he asked Keith suddenly: "Do you know a man named Plume over there at Gumbolt?" "Yes," said Keith; "he runs the paper there." "Yes; that's he. What sort of a man is he?" Keith gave a brief estimate of Mr. Plume: "You will see him and can judge for yourself." "I always do," said Wickersham, briefly. "Know anybody can work him?
He threatened to kill Terp, I heard." "Oh, I guess he has got more sense than that, drunk or sober. He had better stick to men; shootin' of women ain't popular in most parts, an' it ain't likely to get fashionable in Gumbolt, I reckon." "He is huntin' for somebody," said the newcomer.
His father was asked after, and a number of questions about Gumbolt were put to him. Then Mr. Wickersham came to the point. He had a high regard for his father, he said, and having heard that Gordon was living in Gumbolt, where they had some interests, it had occurred to him that he might possibly be able to give him a position.
She is, I may say, the leader of Gumbolt society." Keith shook his head; he had come to work, he declared. "Oh, you need not decline; you will have to know Terpy. I am virtue itself; in fact, I am Joseph nowadays. You know, I belong to the cloth?" Keith's expression indicated that he had heard this fact. "But even I have yielded to her charms intellectual, I mean, of course." Mr.
That winter the railroad reached Gumbolt, and Gumbolt, or New Leeds, as it was now called, sprang at once, so to speak, from a chrysalis to a full-fledged butterfly with wings unfolding in the sun of prosperity. Lands that a year or two before might have been had for a song, and mineral rights that might have been had for less than a song, were now held at fabulous prices.
The rest of his sentence was a malediction on the barbarians in the coach below and a general consignment of them all to a much warmer place than the boot of the Gumbolt stage. "What are you doing here?" Wickersham asked. "I am driving the stage." "Regularly?"
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