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As they reached the head of the first draw that led back down into the valley Harris waved an arm. "Carp," he called, and a middle-aged man named Carpenter, abbreviated to Carp, wheeled his horse from the group and headed down the draw. A half-mile farther on they reached the head of another gulch. "Hanson!" the new foreman called, and the man who repped for the Halfmoon D dropped out.
A couple of miles from the farm where I was reared there stood an old deserted ruin of a house known as the Tim Buck place. It was hidden away behind hills and woods and reached from the highway through a half-mile lane, thick grown with bushes. Here, years before I was born, there had once lived a man by the name of Buck, who hanged himself in the garret one day, while his wife was away.
"You can't play in cents, my Daddy, when it's time to play in dollars. You never know when the time's coming along when even cents are denied you." Then before the worshipping parent could add to his advice the girl darted off with her hands full of outspread bills seeking the pool rooms. She had seen the horses cantering over to the post for the half-mile dash.
The cob labored to the crest and pondered his defeat. A half-mile down the unkempt old toll road, where the goldenrod dropped stately bows to the purple aster, and Bouncing Bet viewed their livelong philandering with scorn, was the impertinent runt walking! Down thundered the cob. No evasion now.
"How do you know you're going to find it?" "Because we know you couldn't have taken it far. Here's the point. You had it when Fox made his getaway. Beulah was right behind you, so we know you didn't get a chance to bury it between there and town. We covered your tracks and you didn't leave the road in that half-mile. That brings you as far as Battle Butte.
In about an hour we resumed our march on a tolerably good road, but crossed by little rippling rills almost every half-mile, which kept our feet continually damp and cold. We passed through many rice-fields, and the country seemed fertile and cheerful, but not a man, or even a solitary hut, could we discover. We at last saw a light, apparently about a mile ahead of us.
Of all the baggage which that truck had borne to the lading of the ship, hers was the only little, lonely piece to come back! In the darkness of the summer midnight Georgiana descended from the "owl" train, the only passenger, as it happened, to alight at the small station. She had hoped to slip away unobserved for the half-mile walk home, but the station master was too quick for her.
Up from the pitchy sea southwest of Brimstone shot a line of fire, curving into an arc and bursting aloft in a shower of many-colored balls. At its base were dimly visible two slender masts and a white hull. Almost instantly they vanished; but the boys had seen enough. "A steam-yacht!" cried Jim. "Not more than a half-mile off Brimstone and drifting straight on the ledges.
You can see them creeping on their bellies through the clumps of coarse bear-grass, gliding like bronze snakes among the rocks, slowly enough the Apache never liked the music of a rifle-bullet but coming closer every hour. Every gully and rock and clump of prickly pear for a radius of a half-mile about that knoll sheltered its portion of the venomous brown swarm.
"No, Meinheer Muller," replied Bessie, coldly, "but he is down there," pointing at a kraal on the plain some half-mile away, "if you want to go and ask about it." "Mr. Muller," said he, by way of correction, and with a curious contraction of the brow. "'Meinheer' is very well for the Boers, but we are all Englishmen now. Well, the ox can wait.
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