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Updated: June 3, 2025
"The pony squatted fust mighty nigh to the groun' then he riz a-buckin'. I seed Jud's coat-tail a-turnin' summersets through the air, the saddle and blanket a-followin'. I heard him when he hit the swamp hole on the side of the road kersplash! an' the pony skeered speechless went off tearin' to-ards home.
Jud and the fifty were turning the loop as though they were swinging at the end of a pendulum, every steer following his fellow like a sheep. Jud's red horse was the only bit of colour against that long line of black bobbing heads. Behind him a string of swimming cattle reached in a long curve to the south bank of the Valley River.
Now everything was ready even to his packed trunk all except Helen. "He's come for her," said Jud to himself as he walked over to the superintendent's desk. Then amid the hum and the roar of the mill he bent his head and the two whispered low and earnestly together. As Jud talked in excited whispers, Travis lit a cigar and listened coolly to Jud's astonishment even cynically.
It rested a moment on the giant's shoulder, then it bent at the elbow, the fingers loosed, and the hammer fell. Old Christian will never be nearer to the pit of his imperial master until he stumbles over its rim. The hunchback glided by me and clapped his hand on Jud's shoulder. "Drop him," he cried. The blood of the giant was booming.
So I made these signs and stuck them up where everybody'd see them and know they meant business, w'thout Jud's having to turn the dogs loose or get his shotgun like he said he ought to. He told me that all hoboes have some way of letting other hoboes know where they can get a square meal, and that's why we have so many.
We 'membered that carefully, and this time we used that wide piece that sticks out of the wall, and then clum down Jud's ladder from the back porch roof. That ain't the balcony pillars, grandpa. You never said we couldn't go down that way." In absolute amazement the learned Doctor of Laws gazed long and silently into the anxious, upturned faces.
Jud was a monologist by nature, whom Destiny, with customary blundering, had set in a profession wherein he was bereaved, for the greater portion of his time, of an audience. Therefore, I was manna in the desert of Jud's obmutescence. Betimes I was stirred by invalid longings for something to eat that did not come under the caption of "grub." "Jud, can you make pancakes?"
I looked at Ump to see what it was, and unless I see the devil, I shall never see the like of that expression. It was the face of a perfectly cool imp. Black Malan carried Peppers through the door as though he were a bushel of corn in a bag, and I marked the build of this powerful man. His neck had muscle creases like the folds on the neck of a muley bull. His shoulders were bigger than Jud's.
During the progress of Jud's story he had been slowly but deftly combining certain portions of the contents of his sacks and cans. Toward the close of it he set before me the finished product a pair of red-hot, rich-hued pancakes on a tin plate. From some secret hoarding he also brought a lump of excellent butter and a bottle of golden syrup. "How long ago did these things happen?" I asked him.
"Want to try it this morning?" "I don't think I've forgotten how," said Meg cautiously, "but I'd rather Jud milked, 'cause he can do it so much faster than I can; and then he can go round with us and see the things." That little speech pleased Jud mightily and pleased Peter Apgar, too, because, you will remember, Peter was Jud's father.
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