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Updated: June 29, 2025
I don't want to start any trouble." Larrabie grinned, without taking his eyes from the man coming down the trail. It was usually some good-natured idiot, with a predisposition to gabbling, that made most of the trouble in the world. "Well, you be a good girl and padlock your tongue. If you do, I'll fix it up with Tom," he promised. He sauntered forward toward the path.
And Larrabie had kept him under cover, and worked him twice, until another telegram had finally come, advising them that Devereau was on his way West, that the "time was right." But Larrabie had been perplexed again on this occasion by Blue Jeans' lack of enthusiasm. He reread the telegram aloud and emphasized the other's great luck.
"You've pretty near killed me." Larrabie laughed grimly. "You didn't get half enough. I'll listen to that apology now, my friend." With many sighs, the prostrate man came through with it haltingly. "I didn't mean I hadn't ought to have said " Keller interrupted the tearful voice. "That'll be enough. You will know better, next time, how to speak respectfully of a lady.
"A man was waylaid while coming to this dance and taken prisoner by his enemies. They mean to do him a mischief. I want volunteers to rescue him." "Who is it?" several voices cried at once. "The man I mean is Larrabie Keller." A pronounced silence followed before Slim drawled an answer: "Cayn't speak for the other boys, but I reckon I haven't lost any Kellers, Jim." "Why not?
"There's not a man that wouldn't give up a big slice to get him for a manager," he said. "He's in right, too. He's the ace!" "Huh!" remarked Blue Jeans. Indeed, Blue Jeans baffled him. And when Devereau arrived in Estabrook on a train twenty minutes late, Blue Jeans was not there to keep the appointment which Larrabie, duly aware of the Easterner's importance, had arranged.
But she noticed that now he went cautiously, eyes narrowed and wary, with the hard face and the look of a coiled spring she had seen on him before. Her heart drummed with excitement. She was not afraid, but she was fearfully alive. At the other entrance to the cañon, Larrabie was down again for another examination. What he seemed to find gave him pleasure. "They've separated," he told Phyllis.
"With yore friend the rustler?" asked Healy insolently over his shoulder. "I haven't got any friend that's a rustler." "I'm speaking of Mr. Larrabie Keller." There was a slurring inflection on the prefix. "He'll be there, I shouldn't wonder." "I'd wonder a heap," retorted Healy. "You'll see he won't show his face there." "That's where you're wrong, Brill.
"I'm going to Noches to see if I cayn't find out something. It don't look reasonable to me that those fellows could disappear, bag and baggage, into a hole and draw it in after them." "What about Brill's story that he saw them at the Pass?" the girl asked. "He may have seen four men, but he ce'tainly didn't see Larrabie Keller.
He had picked up, and was holding in his hand, the revolver Larrabie had taken from him and later thrown down. "Damn you, what do you mean? It's my own gun, ain't it? Mean to say I'm a murderer?" "I happen to know you have impulses that way. I thought I'd check this one, to save you trouble."
"Perhaps he wanted to make her his friend," Larrabie suggested. "There is no perhaps about his success," she said quietly, her gaze just beyond the ears of her horse. The young man dared now to look at her a child of the sun despite her duskiness. Eagerly he awaited the deep, lustrous eyes that would presently sweep round upon him, big and dark and sparkling.
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