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Updated: June 1, 2025
Then, finally, the contents of the wagon covered with a light canvas protection against the dust. "Where you from?" he demanded peremptorily. "Just got through from Myrtle," replied the man, quite undisturbed by the other's manner. "Fourteen miles," said McBain sharply. "Guess your plugs sweated some. What's your name, and who do you work for?"
Fyles took the diary the man held out. "It's a tough proposition, McBain," he said with a sigh, which had no weakening in it. "But I think we'll make good this time, if only we can get the news of the shipment when it comes along well ahead. Superintendent Jason is in communication with every local police force east, and should get it all right. If we get that, the rest should be easy.
She laughed, short and mirthlessly, and Rimrock sat looking at her, his eyes once more big with surprise. She was not the inexperienced creature he had taken her for, she was a woman with high spots in her career. "Well, then what did you do?" he enquired at last as she showed no disposition to proceed. "How'd you come to get out here? Did you know old McBain or "
"I'd be a happy man then!" And, without thinking what he did, having Asgill's air in his head, he hummed, with his head on one side and a grin on his face: "They tried put the comether on Judy McBain: One, two, three, one, two, three! Cotter and crowder and Paddy O'Hea; For who but she's owner of Ballymacshane?" Asgill's face was dark with passion, but "Goodnight" Flavia repeated coldly.
Well, probably they did, but not so as he could notice it and take off his battered old hat. Rimrock looked up the road and, far out across the desert, he could see his own pack-train, coming in. There was money to be got, to buy powder and grub, but who would trust Rimrock Jones now? Not the Gunsight crowd, not McBain and his hirelings they needed the money for their women!
"You're drunk!" retorted Lockhart, looking back over his shoulder, and Rimrock jumped to his feet. "I'll show you!" he cried, starting angrily after him, and L. W. turned swiftly to meet him. "You'll show me what?" he demanded coldly as Rimrock put his hand to his gun. "Never mind!" answered Rimrock. "You know you jobbed me. I let you in on a good thing and you sold me out to McBain.
"Oh, you've always got some come-back," he went on blusteringly, "but I notice you don't say nothing against L. W. Now there was a man who had done me dirt he sold me out, on the Gunsight but when I trusted him and treated him white L. W. became my best friend. He stood right up with me against Andy McBain and that bunch of hired gun-fighters he had; and he'd lay down his life for me, to-morrow.
In the jumping of the Gunsight there had been others just as active, but Rimrock had forgiven them all but McBain. Even the piratical L. W., for all his treachery, was still within the pale of his friendship. But this tall, lanky Scotchman, always lurking within the law as a spider hides for safety in its hole, invoked nothing but his anger and contempt.
McBain regarded her offspring from much the same standpoint as does a hen the brood of enterprising ducklings which, owing to some stratagem on the part of the powers that be, have hatched out from the eggs upon which she has been conscientiously sitting in the fond belief that they were those of her own species.
Nan rippled with mirth. "I never knew a painted Jezebel so perfectly delightful as Kitty. Even Aunt Eliza can't resist her." Mrs. McBain, generally known to her intimates as "Aunt Eliza," was a connection of Nan's on the paternal side. She was a lady of Scottish antecedents and Early Victorian tendencies, to whom the modern woman and her methods were altogether anathema.
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