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Updated: May 4, 2025
McCloud's hotel never did much of a room business. By midnight the cowboys would be on their way for the ranches. Brower and myself were the only occupants of the second floor. For two hours I smoked and read. The ex-jockey did not move a muscle.
Dicksie, with the fingers of one hand moving softly over the telegraph key, sat on a box listening to McCloud's conferences and orders. "Cherry says everything is served. Isn't it, Cherry?" Marion called to the Japanese boy. Cherry laughed with a guttural joy. "We are ready for it," announced McCloud, rising. "How are we to sit?" "You are to sit at the head of your own table," said Marion.
The sound of hoofs aroused him, and looking below he saw a horsewoman reining up near his men at the wreck. She rode an American horse, thin and rangy, and the experienced way in which she checked him drew him back almost to his haunches. But McCloud's eyes were fixed on the slender figure of the rider.
I annexed the remainder of that bottle of soothing syrup; I went to Sol Levi and easily procured delivery of the other five. Then I strolled peacefully to supper over at McCloud's hotel. Pathological knowledge of dope fiends was outside my ken I could not guess how soon my man would need another dose of his "hop," but I was positively sure that another would be needed.
You haven't heard, then?" continued Callahan, returning to his riddle about McCloud's job. "Why, Lance Dunning has gone into the United States Court and got an injunction against us on the Crawling Stone Line tied us up tighter than zero. No more construction there for a year at least.
Lance Dunning stood above six feet in height, and was a handsome man, in spite of the hard lines around his eyes, as he walked in; but neither his manner nor his expression was amiable. "Are you Mr. McCloud? I've been here three times this afternoon to see you," said he, ignoring McCloud's answer and a proffered chair. "This is your office, isn't it?"
That night we camped on a small stream which afterwards we found to be a tributary of McCloud's river. From what we had seen, there appeared to be plenty of water and grass, and from the Indian sign we had seen, they appeared to be in large bands, so we concluded to return to the command.
While his stupidity in not guessing her identity before overwhelmed him, he resolved to exhaust the last effort to win her interest. "I don't know just when I shall see Mr. Sinclair," he answered gravely, "but he shall certainly have your message." A doubt seemed to steal over Dicksie at the change in McCloud's manner. "Oh, pardon me I thought you were working for the company."
I have fallen into the river two or three times, and the last time a big rhinoceros of yours down the grade, a section foreman named Klein, was obliging enough to pull me out. Oh, no! I was not looking for you," he ran on, answering McCloud's question; "not when he pulled me out. I was just looking for a farm or a ladder or something.
Whispering Smith took up a notch again in his belt, pulled down his hat, and bent over the neck of his horse to lay his hand a moment in McCloud's. It was one o'clock. Across the foothills the moon was rising, and Whispering Smith straightening up in the saddle wheeled his horse and trotted swiftly up the street into the silent north.
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