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And the kid's sole heir to nearly half a million." Mackenzie turned to look again at the boy, who was coming back with the horses. "Do you think he'll stick?" he asked. "Yes, he promised the old man he would, and if he's anything like Malcolm, he'll eat fire before he'll break his word. Malcolm and me we come to terms in ten words.
One of them is in that 'wheeled contraption'. It's called a therapeutic chair." "Oh? So the poor kid's been hurt. What's so interesting about that, aside from morbid curiosity?" The boy pushing the chair went around a bend in the walkway, out of sight, and Frobisher went back to his coffee while his wife spoke. "Their names are Mart and Bart. They're twins."
Summoning in her rage a strength she had never before known, she hurled the Lion on top of the Tiger. Then, grabbing a huge net, she threw it over the two of them before they had any time to move out of the way. "Now I have you all, my dearies! All three of that foolish kid's friendies! And I'll see you all into your demises right now!" the Witch said in a whisper.
Birds of a feather now began to appear in the neighborhood of Fort Sumner, and the Kid's gang was increased by the addition of Tom Pickett, and later by Billy Wilson, Dave Rudabaugh, Buck Edwards, and one or two others.
A fusillade of rifle-shots interrupted him. Along a fifty or sixty yard front the Kid's and del Rio's men had crept in closer to Brocky's arroyo, worming their way upon their stomachs, and now fired together. There came a rattling reply from the creek, the shouting of cowboys. "We'll take those fellows first," ordered Norton quickly. "They will see us when we climb that little rise.
He's a foolish party who bets money for a wise boy because the wise boy never has any money to bet for himself!" Picking winners was the serious business of the Kid's life, hence the early morning hours and the careful scrutiny of the daybreak workouts. Bitter experience had taught the Kid the error of trusting men, but up to a certain point he trusted horses.
Where is the telephone?" "Dicky will get the number for you," said Mrs. Underwood, ushering her into the living room. I heard her shrill voice. "Oh, Dicky-bird, please get Mrs. Lester's apartment for her. She wants to be sure the baby's all right." Then I heard a deeper voice. "For heaven's sake, Daisy, don't make a fool of yourself. The kid's all right." That was Mr. Lester's voice, of course.
He was well armed having with him two Winchesters and two 45 Colts revolvers and plenty of ammunition, and although the officers wanted him badly, no one dared go up after him as it was certain death to come with range of the Kid's guns. Later on he escaped and the next time I saw him was in Antonshico, New Mexico.
"What's up?" he demanded, still retaining his seat in the wagon. "None of your business!" retorted the tramp, too angry to be prudent, "The kid's been impudent, and I'm going to pound him to a jelly." Meanwhile, Walter was leading the tramp a chase round the wagon, narrowly escaping seizure. "Help me!" exclaimed Walter, panting.
What made you bring him back to New York?" "Couldn't keep away, governor. I got homesick, I did. There ain't but one Bowery in the world, and I hankered after that " "Didn't I pay you money to keep away, Tim Bolton?" "I don't deny it; but what's three thousand dollars? Why, the kid's cost me more than that. I've had the care of him for fourteen years, and it's only about two hundred a year."
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