Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: July 4, 2025
The old farmer had some business with the employer of the prisoner, and in the evening before leaving for his home, thinking to do humanity a great favor, confidentially informed his neighbor that he had an ex-penitentiary convict on his farm at work, and that he was an old, hardened horse-thief, and beyond all hope of redemption. That evening, after supper, the prisoner got the "grand bounce."
"I'd rather have a new coat than a new missus, and, swelp me bob, I want both." Margaret joined me, and we at once made our way to the "Rising Sun." Work for the day was over, and the street was now getting thronged and noisy. Many curious looks were bent on us, but no one dared to interfere with a man of my evil reputation, a horse-thief being the last thing in desperadoes.
Paul and he shook hands solemnly; they smiled as shyly as though they had been parted three years, not three days and they said: "How's the old horse-thief?" "All right, I guess. How're you, you poor shrimp?" "I'm first-rate, you second-hand hunk o' cheese." Reassured thus of their high fondness, Babbitt grunted, "You're a fine guy, you are! Ten minutes late!"
Bostil had forgotten. Instinctively Bostil stood on guard. For years he had prepared himself for the moment when he would come face to face with this noted horse-thief. "Bostil, how are you?" said Cordts. He appeared pleasant, and certainly grateful for being permitted to come there. From his left hand hung a belt containing two heavy guns. "Hello, Cordts," replied Bostil, slowly unbending.
They heard these things in the long adobe dance-halls while rouge-bedizened women went whirling by in the arms of bold-eyed partners wearing revolvers on their hips. From stage-robber, stock-rustler, horse-thief, and the cold-faced two-gun man who sold his deadly talents to the highest bidder, the stories came to them.
Hither came men-slayers, thieves, and rogues of every description, and if they reached this inn-door they were safe. There is a record of a horse-thief named Birrel in the days of Henry VIII seeking refuge here for a crime committed at Lydd, in Kent. It was intended originally as a house for the refreshment of mendicant friars.
You never have doubts and fears. You always know. Only affirm a thing enough and never try to prove it, and thousands of fools will accept it at last as the word of God. That is the secret of the power of all demagogues and emotional orators. The slickest horse-thief that ever operated in the West was a revivalist who migrated there with a tent.
So the horse-thief was removed to the farther end of the corridor, where he kept up a knocking on the bars of his cell during the early hours of the night, and then turned off his diversion by imitating the sound of a saw on steel, which he could do with his tongue against his teeth with such realism as to bring the sheriff down in his nightshirt, with a lantern in one hand and a shotgun in the other.
"Get dry brush these are green logs we'll burn this jail!" "Hold on!" the judge recognized the horse-thief as the speaker. "There's an old party in there! No need to singe him!" "Friend?" "No, I tried him." The judge tossed away the stool. He understood now that these men were neither lynchers nor regulators. With a confident, not to say jaunty step, he emerged from the jail.
"BECAUSE I THOUGHT YOU WERE THAT HORSE-THIEF. There!" He drew back astonished, and then suddenly came that laugh that Lanty remembered and now hailed with joy. "I believe you, by Jove!" he gasped. "That first night I wore the disguise in which I have tracked him and mingled with his gang. Yes! I see it all now and more. I see that to YOU I owe his recapture!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking