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Updated: June 26, 2025
Ford looked and the scowl which was coming to be a habit transformed itself into a cynical smile. A hundred or more of the MacMorrogh laborers, hats off and standing at respectful attention, were clustered about the rear platform of the private car, and Mr. Colbrith was addressing them; giving them the presidential benediction, as Frisbie put it irreverently.
That will do to sleep on." "All right; sleep on it, then." "In a minute; after I've freed my mind of one little news item. Do you remember that fellow we saw riding in on the Jack's Canyon trail as we were coming back this afternoon?" "Yes." "Have you any notion who it was?" "No." "It was Mr. Julius Eckstein; and he is at present lying doggo in the MacMorrogh quarters. That's all.
And afterward, when we gave him the Oregon job, he knew why he was being bribed to go away. You let us in for this: you've got to muzzle him, some way." The MacMorrogh looked at his remaining brother meaningly. "'Tis up to you, this time, Mickey, b'y. Find your way over to the minin' camp this night, and make a clane job av it." Penfield was moving uneasily in his chair.
Colbrith you may say that a gang of drunken MacMorrogh surfacers flagged us down, and when we wouldn't let them have the train, made a little gun play." "Heavens!" said the clerk, whose curiosity stopped short at the farthest confines of any battle-field. "Is that sort of thing likely to happen again, Mr. Ford?" "Your guess is as good as anybody's," said Ford curtly.
Brian MacMorrogh had unlocked a cupboard in the corner of the room. It was a well-filled gun-rack, and he was passing the Winchesters out to his brothers. "'Tis so," he said briefly. Then: "There's the two naygurs in the car: what av thim, Misther Eckstein?" Eckstein took one of the guns and emptied the magazine to make sure of the loading.
"To the queen's taste, I should say," was the secretary's not too deferential reply. "Ford's out of the way, to be gone ten days or a fortnight, and Frisbie has gone back to dicker with MacMorrogh, and to survey the new route up Horse Creek. Ford doesn't know; I doubt if he will ever know until we spring the trap on him.
"God knows, then; I don't," said the MacMorrogh. "I wint to Chicago to see him when the bid was in, and d'ye think he would lave me talk it over with him? Not him! Wan day he'd be too busy; and the next, I'd have to call again. 'Twas good for him I was not me brother Dan. Dan would've kicked the dure in and t'rown him out av the windy."
It couldn't be a Transcontinental party, this far from home, and we haven't anybody else to fear." Frisbie dropped the subject as one of the abstractions and took up the concrete. "What are the orders for to-day?" he asked. "I don't know. I'm waiting for Mr. Colbrith to say." "There are two buckboard teams here, in the MacMorrogh stables came over from Copah last night. What are they for?"
Colbrith comes over here to see for himself: and what will he see? Decency on a monument smiling reproachfully at her unprincipled traducer. MacMorrogh will rub it into you good and hard. Can't you feel the Sunday-school atmosphere right here in the headquarters this morning? Look down yonder at the Nadia wouldn't that soothe you, now?"
The wan ghost of a smile flitted across the impassive face of the big man at the desk. "Let me tell you something, MacMorrogh. If you, or your brother Dan, ever find it necessary to go after Ford, don't give him notice by battering down doors. You won't, I know. But about the contract: you haven't heard from the executive committee?" "Not the half of wan wor-rd."
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