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Updated: June 6, 2025
Mildini, who was short and fat, and had a twinkle in his eye, and had been born Murphy; Mrs. Mildini, who was slim and sharp-featured, and whose eyes were bright, without any twinkle in them; and Signor Antolini, who was of medium height and rather thin, and had a nose like a hawk, and had been born on Mulberry Street, in New York City.
You never could tell. Yes, the show business was fascinating, but very uncertain. Mr. Mildini was chatty and not a bit stand-offish, as one might think a talented person would be. So, when that old fall sun sank down toward the west, it outlined two shabby wagons, crawling along the lonely prairie.
It was fourteen miles west of the Bar O. Oh, no, Mr. Mildini didn't mind their riding along with the troupe. He was glad of the company. They could have dinner with them, too, if they liked. And perhaps they wouldn't mind helping with the stock, if they didn't make the ranch that day, and had to camp. Sometimes they had trouble with the wagons; they were old. Sometimes they got stuck in the mud.
But if Dorgan stayed on, the boys might be able to get some proof of his guilt. He was a dangerous man to deal with; that made it all the more interesting. If they had known how dangerous Dorgan really was, they might have considered the matter more seriously. The next morning the Mildini Troupe went on its way across the lonely prairie, and Whitey watched the departure with regret.
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