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Updated: June 28, 2025
Carey resumed the perusal of his newspaper. He was not anxious to continue the conversation, and he believed he had Mr. Hennage intimidated, and for reasons of his own he was desirous of permitting the gambler to think matters over. Mr. Hennage proceeded at once to think matters over. "Now, I wonder what that kid-glove crook has against the boy!" he mused.
The gambler decided that there was something vaguely familiar about the back of this passenger's head, and on the pretense of going to the front of the car for a drink of water he contrived, on his way back to his seat, to catch a glimpse of the stranger's face. At the same instant the man glanced up from his paper and nodded to Mr. Hennage.
The simplicity, the honesty of this dying stray dog had filled his heart to overflowing; for he was young and he could weep at the passing of a man. "Sho," said Mr. Hennage softly, "sho, Bob. It was low down o' me to figure you a crook, but the evidence man, it was awful but you when did you marry Donnie" "Last October in Bakersfield." "I know wisht you'd invited me give the bride away, Bob.
She remembered Bob's complaint at the loss of his hat, because it was new and had cost him twenty dollars! Some one in San Pasqual had found it, realized its value and decided to keep it. It followed, then, that the man who had found that hat the night Bob lost it had held up the stage at Garlock. As Harley P. Hennage would have put it, the entire situation was now as clear as mud!
He stood there, swaying a little, and a strong arm came around his fat waist. He half turned and gazed into the sun-scorched, red-bearded face of a tall young man clad in a ruin of weather-beaten rags. It was Bob McGraw. He had come back. Sam Singer, reaching Mr. Hennage's side at that moment, recognized the stranger, and realizing that Mr. Mr. Hennage fixed his fading glance upon the wanderer.
I was worthy of Hennage's trust and friendship until a few minutes ago. Harley P. Hennage never did a mean or a cowardly act, and to-day I used my power over you to extort half a million dollars from you to further a scheme of mine. I figured that the end justified the means. It did not, and I ask you to forgive me." Carey smiled wanly. "It's up-hill work, McGraw, but I'll forgive you.
As her car rolled past the depot she peered out and saw Harley P. Hennage scratching his head with one hand, while in the other he held a letter which he was reading. Donna could not help wondering who had written a letter to the worst man in San Pasqual. She was glad of the seclusion of the state-room until the train was a mile outside San Pasqual, when she went out on the observation car.
The motto o' the Hennage family has allers been 'Hands Off Or Take The Consequences. Of course, if you insist, you can go to it with your private detectives, but you won't get far. You're up against a double-jointed play, Carey. Look out for snags." T. Morgan Carey stared hard at Harley P. Hennage while the worst man in San Pasqual was delivering his ultimatum. He continued to stare when Mr.
With its inhabitants she had nothing in common, although she noted a mental exception to this condition as, from afar, she observed Harley P. Hennage standing in front of the eating-house door, picking his teeth with his gold toothpick.
It had not escaped the gambler's observing eye that Donna had been crying, so immediately after breakfast Mr. Hennage strolled over to the feed corral, leaned his arms on the top rail and carefully scanned the herd of horses within. Bob McGraw's little roan cayuse was gone! "Well, if that don't beat the Dutch!" exclaimed Mr. Hennage disgustedly.
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