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Updated: June 27, 2025
Any boy of Tom Morrison couldn't help hittin' the mark in time," called out the genial old farmer, waving his whip cheerily after the active lad. "Thank you for the lift, Mr. Prentice. If I can't make a go of it any other way I may look up that job you spoke about," Dick called out; and then turning hurriedly climbed a fence that brought him to the meadow.
"Well, ain't that a Willie for your whiskers?" he commented. "Where'd you dig up the hobo, Ranse? Goin' to make an auditorium for inbreviates out of the ranch?" "Say," said Curly, from whose panoplied breast all shafts of wit fell blunted. "Any of you kiddin' guys got a drink on you? Have your fun. Say, I've been hittin' the stuff till I don't know straight up." He turned to Ranse.
"Well, I'm sorry, Gib," mumbled McGuffey, very much crestfallen, "but then you hove that dog-gone fish at me an' " "That was fortune hittin' you a belt in the face, Mac, an' you was too self-conceited to recognize it. Remember that, both of you two. Fortune hit you in the face to-day an' you didn't know it." "I'd ruther die poor, Gib," wailed McGuffey.
And he stared hard at all that the light revealed, for Old Jerry's face was very white. "Jest a little, no-account jug that's got busted," the shrill, bodiless voice went chattering on, while its owner recoiled from the light. "Busted all to pieces from hittin' into a tree!" And then, reassuringly, on a desperate impulse: "But don't you go to worryin' over it don't you worry one mite!
And now I was just markin' time, waitin' for what might turn up, and feelin' equal to pullin' off any sort of a deal, from matchin' Piddie for the lunches to orderin' a new stock issue. What if the asphalt over on Fifth-ave. was softenin' up, with the mercury hittin' the nineties, and half the force off on vacations? I had a real job to attend to. I was doin' things!
But say, when it comes right down to quick action, some of these cotton-belt belles can throw in a high gear that makes our Gwendolyns look like they was only hittin' on odd cylinders. Ella May was a sample. We was havin' our first glimpse of each other, but in less 'n forty-five seconds by the watch she'd called me honey, dearied me twice, and patted me chummy on the arm.
"It's as well to be bold an' appear to trust 'em," said Redhand, laying down his rifle and leaping over the breastwork; "keep your guns ready, lads, an' if ye see treachery, let drive at once. Don't be afraid o' hittin' me. I'll take my chance." After a few minutes' conversation with the Indian, Redhand returned to his party.
"Ef things kep hittin' their present gait, why, I don't jest see wher' we're to strike bottom. The pinch ain't yet, but you can't never kick out a prop without shakin' the whole darned buildin' mighty bad. An' that's how the Obar's fixed. Ther's a mighty big punch gone plumb out o' Jeff's fight, an', well, I guess we're needin' all our punch to fix the things crowdin' around us."
Say, Jess, they say it's to carry sixty thousand dollars. Well, it won't carry it far. That's why I'm back here now. That's why I quit worrying with your kids when Wild Bill did up Luke. We hustled home to change our plugs, an' are hittin' the trail again right away. Sixty thousand dollars! Gee! what a haul!
For a time he watched the speck, his eyes narrowing. Finally he made out the speck to be a man on a pony. "He's a-fannin' it some," he observed, shading his eyes with his hands; "hittin' up the breeze for fair." He meditated long, a critical smile reaching his lips. "It's right warm to-day. Not just the kind of an atmosphere that a man ought to be runnin' his horse reckless in."
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