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Updated: May 13, 2025
But naturally after six weeks of unceasing repetition of that pink set of questions "Mac's" throat was a bit dry and he could scarcely be expected to return at once to the humdrum life of camp without spending a bit of that $5 a day in slaking a tropical thirst.
When we had unloaded the bodies from the uneasy horses, and laid them carefully in a lean-to at the stable-end, we led our mounts inside. Goodell paused in the doorway and emitted a whistle of surprise at sight of a horse in one of the stalls. I looked over his shoulder and recognized at a glance the rangy black MacRae had ridden. "They must have given Mac's horse to another trooper," I hazarded.
"Is it only the pillows?" he said. "I thought something had gone wrong." Then his eyes began to twinkle. "There's stacks of pillows in Darwin," he said meaningly. It was exactly the moral fillip needed, and in another minute we were cheerfully "culling our herd" again. Exposed to Mac's scorn, the simplest comforts became foolish luxuries.
Anyway I saved him one day from being strung up. That was on the Powder River, when I was riding for Hurley's X Y Z outfit. They were a hard lot. And Mac's guilt wasn't clear to me. Anyway, I got him out of a bad mess, on condition he'd leave the country." "Ahuh! Wal, I see. But it's a shore gamble he's one of Hardman's outfit now, same as Purcell." "Reckon he was. But he got fired."
She looked at it in silence for a moment, then put it softly back and, shutting the drawer, took up the little gray book which was her pride, thinking as she contrasted the two men and their influence on her life the one sad and disturbing, the other sweet and inspiring "Charlie's was passion Mac's is love." "Rose!
But the stormy inconstancy of Mac's behaviour had no connection with a gill or two of wine; his passions, angry and otherwise, were on a different sail plan from his neighbours'; and there were possibilities of good and evil in that hybrid Celt beyond their prophecy.
"We do that already, Clarian," said Mac's emphatic voice. "No," said Clarian, firmly, proudly, like a poet about to kneel that he may receive the laurel crown, "no, you do not know me yet." And he was right. We did not yet know him. "That is a boy after my own heart", said Mac, after we had returned to our room.
She thought she and the thrushes and blackbirds had it to themselves, but she was mistaken, for in turning into a shrubbery walk, skirting the meadow, she was surprised to see Richard Sefton sitting on a low bench, with Mac's head between his knees, evidently in a brown study.
Bostil uttered a deep and booming yell, which rose above the shouts of the men round him and was heard even in the din of Indian cries. Then as quickly as the yells had risen they ceased. Holley stood up on the rock with leveled glass. "Mac's dropped the flag. It's a sure go. Now! ... Van's out there front inside. The King's got his stride. Boss, the King's stretchin' out! ... Look!
It was through my kind of harping on that fact that me and the Guelph parted company. The head waiter complained to the management the day I called him a fat-headed vampire. Well, what with me and what with Jules, MacFarland's it wasn't Mac's in them days began to get a move on.
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