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Updated: May 24, 2025
I'll kick him from here to the pond, and that won't be half so pleasant as rocking little sister to sleep in her cradle while mamma is out for the night." "And I used to think I was in love with you!" she cried in sheer disgust. "I could spit in your face, Barry Lapelle. Will you let me pass?" "Certainly. But I'm going into the house with you, understand that.
"Well, you remember what I was jest sayin' about women, how sot they are in their ways concarnin' a man? Well, Moll is after Barry Lapelle, no question about that. She's an uncommon good-lookin' girl, I might say, an' I guess Barry ain't blind.
If there is really anything in this story, I doubt the wisdom of going to Mrs. Gwyn with it, and certainly it would be a bad plan to speak to Viola. We've got to handle this matter ourselves. I want to catch Barry Lapelle red-handed. That is the surest way to convince Viola that he is an unworthy scoundrel.
Kenneth had stopped at the edge of the little grove and was gazing fiercely at the two lighted windows of the "shanty." He was thinking of Barry Lapelle as he muttered the words, thinking of the foul luck that seemed almost certain to deliver Viola into his soiled and lawless hands.
"Am I to understand, sir, that you are referring to my friend as a horse-thief?" he demanded, bridling. "I merely asked you to take that message to him," said Kenneth coolly. "I might add cattle-thief, sheep-stealer, hog-thief or " "Why, good God, sir," gasped Mr. Trentman, "he'd shoot you down like a dog if I " "You may also tell Mr. Lapelle that his bosom friend Martin Hawk is in jail."
"Stand up!" ordered Gwynne, turning to Lapelle. "I ought to kill you myself. It's in my heart to do so. Do you know what you've done to her?" Barry drew himself up, his fast swelling, bloodshot eyes filled with a deadly hatred. His voice was thick and unsteady. "You'd better kill me while you have the chance," he said. "Because, so help me God, I'm going to kill you for this."
It was not until he reached the table-land to the south that he drove the rowels into the flanks of the swift four-year-old and leaned forward in the saddle to meet the rush of the wind. Full well he knew that given the start of an hour no horse in the county could catch his darling Fancy! And so it was that Barry Lapelle rode out of the town of Lafayette, never to return again.
You'd think the blame fool would have sense enough to keep well out in mid stream at a time like this. Happy to have you here with us, and I hope you will like us well enough to stay." "Thank you. I shall like you all better after I have had something to eat," said Kenneth. "And drink," added Lapelle.
"I was not aware of her departure until I arose this morning, Mr. Lapelle. Striker informed me that she went away before sunrise." For a moment Lapelle glared at him suspiciously, and then gave vent to a short, contemptuous laugh. "A thousand apologies," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I might have known you would not be consulted."
"You are an object of interest to every one in this section," said Lapelle, indifferently. "Where did you spend the night?" "At the farm of a man named Striker, Phineas Striker." Lapelle started. His body appeared to stiffen in the saddle. "Phineas Striker?" he exclaimed, with a swift, searching look into the speaker's eyes. Suddenly a flush mantled his cheek.
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