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Updated: June 27, 2025
"I don’t blame him for hittin’ the cab driver," said Aunt Mary warmly. "As near as I can recollect, I’ve often wanted to do that myself. But I can’t make out where he got the man to hit, or why he was there to hit him. I can’t make rhyme or reason out of it. I wish we knew more. Well, I presume we will, later." Her surmise was correct. They knew much more later. They knew more from Mr.
Any of the boys can tell you. I'd know thet track if I was blind." Stillwell's ruddy face clouded and he kicked at a cactus plant. "Was Danny comin' or goin'?" he asked. "I reckon he was hittin' across country fer the Peloncillo trail. But I ain't shore of thet without back-trailin' him a ways. I was jest waitin' fer you to come up."
Nobody can think while you're hittin' it up like that. This ain't no prayer meetin', Bill." For answer Kilduff removed the mouth-organ to take a deep breath, blinked his small eyes, and began again in a still higher key. "Go slow, Terry," advised Rhinehart in a soft tone. "Kilduff ain't feelin' none too well tonight."
"'Now kick in, damn you, Bill Roberts, an' finish'm' the referee says to me, an' I tell'm to go to hell as Bill an' me flop into the next clinch, not hittin', an' Bill touches his thumb again, an' I see the pain shoot across his face. Game? That good boy's the limit.
So he's sure hittin' for Mexico. Wonder if Danny's goin', too? Wal, there's two of the best cowmen I ever seen gone to hell an' I'm sorry." With that he bowed his head and, grumbling to himself, went into the house. Alfred lifted the reins over the head of the horse and, leading him to Madeline, slipped the knot over her arm and placed the letter in her hand.
"It turned out that he'd been watchin' me for a long time. I never liked the cuss, but he's a good cowman, an' I had to hold onto him. When he saw the gold droppin' out an' hittin' the ground like big hailstones, he grinned that chessie-cat grin he's got, an' wanted to know if I was through totin' it home.
I seen you hittin' the breeze for fair while you was quite a piece up the basin; an' I seen Deveny an' the boys a-fannin' it, too. An' I says to myself: 'Stroud, here's Deveny racin' to see Miss Barbara, an' her actin' like she don't want to see him. But I'll fix it so she does." The girl touched Billy with the quirt, and the little animal lunged forward, close to Stroud's horse.
It was certainly comfortin' to hear the way she went on about it; but it was a little too cold-blooded for my nerves, 'cause I hadn't done a thing this time but make one small suggestion; so we finally compromised by admittin' that now an' again, I was picked out to be the nail on the finger of Fate. Sometimes I rather think that comes purty close to hittin' me.
The women they can't no more help hittin' a fellow a clip and a rap when they've fairly got him, than a cat when she's ketched a mouse; and so I shouldn't wonder if the Commodore heard something about his widder every time he went home from his v'y-ages the longest day he had to live. I don't know nothin' 'bout it, ye know: I only kind o' jedge by what looks, as human natur' goes.
He ran round in a little circle, with hands up in bewilderment. And when the ball dropped it hit him on the head and bounded away. "Run, you Injun, run!" bawled Bo. "What'd I tell you? We ain't got 'em goin', oh, no! Hittin' 'em on the head!" Bill dropped a slow, teasing ball down the third-base line.
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