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Updated: May 17, 2025
A movement amid the stragglers of the band told that they had glimpsed the approach of the whites. There was a distant shout, and at once the whole party was galloping off. "They'll distance us!" cried Blake. "They're going to get away!" "Not very far," was Hank's opinion. "Their horses are about done up. This is a last spurt."
So they took Hank from the tree that night, and early next morning they buried him near camp on the top of a little mound. But the thought of Willomene lying in Pitchstone Canyon had kept sleep from me through that whole night, nor did I wish to attend Hank's burial.
Vaguely he knew that he must not take another drink, no matter how insistent they were. In the brief glow of that resolution Casey protested that he could hoot without any more hootch. But he hated to hurt Paw's feelings, or Hank's or Joe's. They had made the hootch with a new and different twist, and they were honestly anxious for his judgment and approval.
Suddenly Hank pitched forward and began falling and Betsy would have tumbled over his head had she not grabbed the mule's shaggy neck with both arms and held on for dear life. All around was darkness, and they were not falling directly downward but seemed to be sliding along a steep incline. Hank's hoofs were resting upon some smooth substance over which he slid with the swiftness of the wind.
While they hesitated, eyeing Hank's heels doubtfully, a merry peal of laughter startled the animals and turning their heads they beheld three lovely girls standing just within the richly carved entrance to the stable. In the center was Ozma, her arms encircling the waists of Dorothy and Betsy, who stood on either side of her.
Well, seh, yu' would not have pleasured in his company. And this year Hank is placer-mining on Galena Creek, where we'll likely go for sheep. There's Honey Wiggin and a young fello' named Lin McLean, and some others along with the outfit. But Hank's woman will not look at any of them, though the McLean boy is a likely hand.
"Oh! that's it, eh?" said Wycoff. "A knowing critter, that. He's got the instincts of a woman, and I ain't sure but he knows as much as a man. Well, I hope Hank is dead, anyhow." "Oh, don't say so, Mr. Wycoff," said Little Wolf, every particle of color forsaking her face. "Well, now if I ain't beat," said the rough man, "I thought you would be tickled to dance on Hank's grave."
I didn't probe too deeply into Hank's motives, but it seemed to give him considerable satisfaction to learn that Colonel Hicks was filled with indignant and scornful rage at the proposal to establish a Christian mission in that remote valley.
"Well," says Hank, sort o' backing up as the big man come nearer and nearer to him, jest natcherally bully-ragging him with them eyes, "I got none of them there complaints." The doctor he kind o' snarls, and he brings his hand down hard on Hank's shoulder, and he says: "There are more things betwixt Dan and Beersheba than was ever dreamt of in thy sagacity, Romeo!"
I happened to be near enough to the livery stable to hear some fellows talking about Hank's breakdown, with a big party aboard. I knew then what had happened, and sent Dorothy home, she had been out most of the afternoon waiting got this carryall, and here we are," and Uncle William only had to hint "hurry up" to his horses and away they went.
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