Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 9, 2025
Gunner Moran's great scarlet hands were knotted into fists. His Adam's apple worked convulsively. "Le's duck," he whispered hoarsely. The jackie band in the corner crashed into the opening bars of a fox trot. "Oh, it don't seem " But it was plain that Tyler was weakening. Another moment and they would have turned and fled.
The wetness of the pavement was soaking through the thin soles of her shoes. "Decide on something, quick," she shivered. "I'm dying of cold!" Enrique exclaimed, with a resolution he thought very like that of a man of the world: "If you want to eat, we'll go to Fornos." The girl made a grimace of horror. "Never!" she cried. "Everybody knows me there!" "Well then, let's go to Moran's."
I've rode with the vigilantes more'n once, and the vigilantes has rode after me more'n once; in my young days I wa'n't exactly what you'd call a nickel-plated saint. But I never killed a man, 'cept in a fair fight, an' I don't believe in violence unless it's necessary. It's necessary right now, fellers! Moran's gone too far! Things have drawed to a point where we've got to fight or quit.
Rexhill, with tousled hair, wrapped in a bathrobe, from the bottom of which his bare ankles and slippered feet protruded, sat on the edge of his bed, impatiently chewing an unlighted cigar while he listened to Moran's account of the fracas. "You went too far, Race, you went too far," he burst out angrily at last. "You had no orders to jump the ranch. I told you...."
I am all a-tremble, and though my brain is working quickly, my thoughts are not mature and deliberate. My brain reminds me at times of the skies that followed Father Moran's visit skies restlessly flowing, always different and always the same. These last days are merciless days, and I have to write to you in order to get some respite from purposeless thinking.
By then a silvery peace rested on both land and water, hardly any boats were about, the fringe of trees on the bank was reduced to a deep shadow, and the moonlight glimmered over the smooth flowing stream. The villa we were living in was known as 'Moran's Garden'. A flight of stone-flagged steps led up from the water to a long, broad verandah which formed part of the house.
"Yes," said I. "You have not made it clear what was Colonel Moran's motive in murdering the Honourable Ronald Adair?" "Ah! my dear Watson, there we come into those realms of conjecture, where the most logical mind may be at fault. Each may form his own hypothesis upon the present evidence, and yours is as likely to be correct as mine." "You have formed one, then?"
That ther 'Windy Moran's' bin raisin' hell over in the hotel th' las' two days. He got to fightin' ag'in las' night with Larry Blake over that hawss. Bob Ingalls an' Chuck Reed an' th' bunch dragged 'em apart an' tol' Larry to beat it back to his ranch which he did. Windy they got him to bed, an' kep' him ther all night, as he swore he'd shoot Larry.
Grassy hills shone in the bright morning sun; high up, flares of gold spoke eloquently of aspen thickets tinged by the frost; purple belts crossing the mountains told of forests. The wall of rock that he had observed from Moran's camp wound away over the eastern horizon.
The problem was to suggest the saddle to them, without letting the cowboys understand, and by good luck I thought I had the means. Albert had complained to me the day we had ridden out to the Indian dwellings at Flagstaff that his saddle fretted some galled spots which he had chafed on his trip to Moran's Point. Hoping he would "catch on," I shouted to him "How are your sore spots, Albert?"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking