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Updated: June 21, 2025
Mr. Judkins, the station agent at Chazy Junction, came out of his little house at daybreak, shivered a bit in the chill morning air and gave an involuntary start as he saw a private car on the sidetrack. There were two private cars, to be exact a sleeper and a baggage car and Mr. Judkins knew the three o'clock train must have left them as it passed through.
Chrisfield had slipped out of the place he held and began poking himself in between Andrews and Judkins. "We've been on this train four days and five nights, an' we've got half a day's rations left, so we must be getting somewhere," said Andrews. "It can't be like this at the front." "It must be spring there as well as here," said Andrews.
Grace and Susy had got their baskets nearly half full, and Prudy had covered the bottom of hers with leaves, stems, and a few berries, when a man's voice was heard muttering, not far off. "O Grace," whispered Susy, "that's Mr. Judkins!" He carried a whetstone, on which he was sharpening his jackknife.
"Judkins, you ride with Jane out into the sage. If you see any riders comin' shout quick twice. An', Jane, don't look back! I'll catch up soon. We'll get to the break into the Pass before midnight, an' then wait until mornin' to go down." Black Star bent his graceful neck and bowed his noble head, and his broad shoulders yielded as he knelt for Jane to mount.
Judkins paused in his narrative, breathing heavily while he wiped his perspiring brow. "Thet's about all," he concluded. "Lassiter left the meetin'-house an' I hurried to catch up with him. He was bleedin' from three gunshots, none of them much to bother him. An' we come right up here. I found you layin' in the hall, an' I hed to work some over you."
She stood up, a small tottering figure in a black silk shawl. He leaned over towards her and she kissed both his cheeks vigorously several times. He walked down the road towards the billets, with his fatigue cap in his hand, looking at the ground. "He's got a flower behind his ear, like a cigarette," said Judkins, with a disgusted snort. "Well, I guess we'd better go," said Small.
And when Judkins put in appearance, riding a lame horse, and dismounted with the cramp of a rider, his dust-covered figure and his darkly grim, almost dazed expression told Jane of dire calamity. She had no need of words. "Miss Withersteen, I have to report loss of the white herd," said Judkins, hoarsely. "Come, sit down, you look played out," replied Jane, solicitously.
You're more faithful than my own people. I ought not accept your loyalty you might suffer more through it. But what in the world can I do? My head whirls. The wrong to Venters the stolen herd these masks, threats, this coil in the dark! I can't understand! But I feel something dark and terrible closing in around me." "Miss Withersteen, it's all simple enough," said Judkins, earnestly.
Looks to me like he'd rather have a drink with a frog than with an American." "Reckon he wants to learn their language," said Small. "He won't never come to much in this army, that's what I'm telling yer," said Judkins. The little houses across the way had flushed red with the sunset. Andrews got to his feet slowly and languidly and held out his hand to the old woman.
"Plain!... My herds to wander in the sage to be stolen! Jane Withersteen a poor woman! Her head to be brought low and her spirit broken!... Why, Judkins, it's plain enough." "Miss Withersteen, let me get what boys I can gather, an' hold the white herd. It's on the slope now, not ten miles out three thousand head, an' all steers.
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