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Updated: May 1, 2025
He ain't got himself mixed up in more trouble, has he? "'I prefer to refrain from discussin' the details, says this wealthy gent, 'with a perfect stranger. "'Oh, very well' I says. 'I didn't seek this interview, but when you mentioned the hoss I could tell by the look in your eye that McGraw's been robbin' you o' somethin'. Well, you might own that hoss, but you've got to prove property.
McGraw sold the hoss to Enrique an' lit out for Bakersfield, an' I won the hoss from Enrique at faro. I been keepin' him in the corral in order to give the Mexican a chance to buy him back. But McGraw's not in town. He won't be here for a week or two yet. "'Thank you, my man, says he, an' pulls a card, just about the time I was gettin' ready to pull his nose. 'If you should see Mr.
The individual before him evidently was a state employee; but for all that Bob could advance no excuse for his free and easy action in assaulting him with his index finger. No one except the janitor or the night watchman had a right to such familiarity with Mr. McGraw's ribs and he resented being told to wake up before he was ready.
He recalled now the quick look of terror that had flitted across the face of each of these men when it came to the show-down and the pot was lost in the smoke; he endeavored to compare it with the sudden despair and suffering that came into Donna's eyes when the express messenger drew back the sweat-band of the outlaw's hat and showed her Bob McGraw's private brand of ownership. "No," moaned Mr.
Thank you so much " The janitor entered. In his hand he held Mr. McGraw's suspenders. "You might need these" he interrupted, "more particular if you're goin' to do any runnin', an' I'll bet you are." "Thank you" murmured Mr. McGraw. "You're very thoughtful," and quite calmly he proceeded to remove his coat and vest and replace the suspenders.
McGraw's ears; the pungent aroma of tar-weed, the thousand and one little smells of the wide free spaces that he loved floated across to him from the fields on each side of the road, as he sat erect in the tonneau and sniffed the air of freedom. He had had his fill of cities and he was glad to leave them behind. The second event in Donna Corblay's life was about to be consummated.
When Pete returned for further orders, he met the Assistant Engineer at the door of the commissary, baggily draped in a suit of McGraw's clothes, which fitted nowhere except across the shoulders. Blake dismissed him, and went in to outfit himself with a costume in keeping with his position.
Pound had spoken well of me, he made no mention of it. I was of interest to him simply because by my coming I had broken the records of McGraw's freshman class. Last year it numbered thirty-eight; this year, thirty-nine. Through me the university had taken another stately step onward. He showed me the blue-print and explained it in detail.
McGraw's deep-set little eyes lingered for a moment on the stranger's mouth and jaw. "Good thing," he grunted. "The company is offering him double what Mr. Ashton gets; but he's not anxious to take it as Assistant." The big general foreman was moved out of his phlegmatic stolidity. "Huh? He's not?" "Not under that thing," put in Blake grimly. "Must know him."
No royal chef, safe- guarding the stomach of his monarch against the surreptitious introduction of a deadly poison in the soup, could have evinced a greater interest in the royal appetite than did Donna in Bob McGraw's that night. As the nurse was about to take the bowl of broth which she had prepared, in to her patient, Donna dipped up a small quantity on a teaspoon and tasted it.
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