Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 15, 2025
Nearer, the meadow of alfalfa and clover lay like a soft, green carpet of velvet, lined here and there with the irrigation ditches which kept it so. And in the center of the meadow, a small inclosure marked grimly the spot where lay the bones of old John Imsen.
"I guess that ought to hold you for a while, Pete," Miss Georgie approved under her breath, and stared after Grant curiously. "'You're mentally incapable of recognizing the line of demarcation between legitimate persiflage and objectionable familiarity. I'll bet two bits you don't know what that means, Pete; but it hits you off exactly. Who is this Mr. Imsen?" She got no reply to that.
John Imsen had stared down suspiciously at the words, and he had not felt quite easy in his mind until the bag of gold coins was actually in his keeping. Also, he had been ashamed of that X. It was a simple thing to make with a pen, and yet he had only succeeded in making it look like two crooked sticks thrown down carelessly, one upon the other.
Not that he wanted it to be true! But he was man enough to look at her with a keener interest than he had felt before. And Miss Georgie, if one might judge by her manner, was woman enough to detect that interest and to draw back her skirts, mentally, ready for instant flight into unapproachableness. "Howdy, Mr. Imsen?" she greeted him lightly.
Imsen. I must thank you for well, for defending me to that Indian." "I didn't. Nobody was attacking you, so I couldn't very well defend you, could I? I had to take a fall out of old Peppajee, just on principle. I don't get along very well with my noble red cousins. I wasn't doing it on your account, in particular." "Oh, I see." She rose rather suddenly from the bench.
"And that's all I can tell you, Mr. Imsen," she finished crisply, and took up a novel with a significance which not even the dullest man could have ignored. Good Indian stared, flushed hotly, and made for the door. "Thank you for the information. I'm afraid this has been a lot of bother for you," he said stiffly, gave her a ceremonious little bow, and went his way stiff-necked and frowning.
Grant has been shoveling sand all afternoon, building a dam over by the fence, and the water has been rising and rising till " She waved her hand gloomily at her bedraggled Aunt Phoebe working like a motherly sort of gnome in its shadowy grotto. "Oh, if I were Aunt Phoebe, I should just shake you, Grant Imsen!" "Try it," he invited, his eyes worshiping her in her pretty petulance.
Phoebe caught him by the arm then, thinking he meant to make good his threat and it would not have been unlike Grant Imsen to do so. "Now, Grant, you let her go," she coaxed. "I know you aren't drunk of course, I knew it all the time. I told Hagar so. What do you care what she says about you? You don't want to fight an old woman, Grant a man can't fight a woman " "You tell her you heap big liar!"
In the very teeth of that, and in spite of the fact that he was neither very good, nor an Indian nor in any sense "dead" men called Grant Imsen "Good Indian" to his face; and if he resented the title, his resentment was never made manifest perhaps because he had grown up with the name, he rather liked it when he was a little fellow, and with custom had come to take it as a matter of course.
But I do believe he's up to something mean and sneaky, and, since Peppajee has taken this matter to heart, maybe he can find out something. I think you ought to go and see him, anyway, Mr. Imsen." So Good Indian had gone to the Indian camp, and had afterward ridden along the rim of the bluff, because Sleeping Turtle had seen someone walking through the sagebrush in that direction.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking