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Updated: June 28, 2025
The hard lips lifted, the dull impassive face was lit for an instant by the trustful childish smile, and through the glory of that infrequent facial expression Harley P.'s three gold front teeth flashed like triple searchlights. "I mean, Miss Corblay, have you any money?" "Only a little bit, Mr. Hennage" Donna quavered.
An empty furniture car, I should say, judging by that scrap of excelsior in your back hair, although the car might have been loaded with crockery." Mr. Hennage removed the evidence and gazed at it reflectively. "I suppose, now, if that'd been a feather, you'd a-swore I flew in." "Possibly. You've been a high flyer in your day, haven't you?" Mr. Hennage grinned.
Donna had wired him that she had arranged for a two-weeks' vacation, and he had been at pains to acquaint her with the extreme low ebb of his finances, in the hope that she would voluntarily suggest a delay of their marriage, but to his great distress she had not seen fit to take his pathetic hint she who ordinarily was so quick of comprehension; so, rather than refer to the matter again, he decided to step into a telegraph station immediately after the ceremony and send a hurried call for help to Harley P. Hennage the gambler being the only man of his acquaintance whom he knew to be sufficiently good-natured and careless with money to respond to his appeal.
He came running now, and upon hearing the details of the duel he pressed through the circle of curious men who had gathered to see Harley P. Hennage die. He found Mr. Hennage seated in the sand with his head and shoulders supported by a stranger. Mr. Hennage smiled his rare, trustful, childish smile as the yardmaster approached. "Good old Dan!" he mumbled.
Foxy Mr. Hennage! It was quite true. He hadn't said a word! Ah, money talks; despite his precautions, Harley P.'s thousand dollars were very eloquent. The next day Donna took up her life where it had left off.
"Is that why you failed to act immediately after you became convinced that I was an outlaw and would not dare claim the land when it should be granted to my clients?" demanded Bob. Carey nodded. "I met Hennage in Bakersfield, and he told me to keep my hands off those applications." "Then he bluffed you, Mr. Carey. Harley P. Hennage was my friend, but not my partner.
Hennage did not judge it necessary to tell Donna that he had left the worthy yardmaster in charge of her destinies, with a thousand dollars on deposit in a bank in Bakersfield, in Dan's name, for Donna's use in case of emergency. Mr.
Hennage prima facie evidence that Bob McGraw had returned with her. Donna had gone to the Hat Ranch while Bob had saddled and ridden north. At least, since he had come from the north, Mr. Hennage deduced that to the north he would return.
It would then be incumbent upon McGraw to visit the State Land Office, pay the balance of thirty-nine thousand dollars due on the lands and close the transaction. The way had been nicely smoothed for Carey by the death of Mr. Hennage, who had warned him so earnestly to "keep off the grass."
Pennycook, leaned further in the window and improvising a megaphone with his hands, whispered hoarsely the damning words: "She talks!" Donna nodded. For a long time she had suspected Mrs. Pennycook of this very practice. "I've got to light out now" Mr. Hennage continued. "Folks'll wonder if they see me hangin' around here.
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