Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: July 2, 2025
The old fellow with the mutton-chop whiskers, who used to send us bags of coffee from his plantation in Mexico." "Awful coffee, we couldn't give it away!" "He wanted to talk to me about a scheme he is interested in. It seems that he has a lot of property in the southwest, Oklahoma and the Texas Panhandle, some of it very valuable. Among other things he has become involved in a railroad.
Don't you understand I have to be drunk to stand this life? I'm not drunk now because you got here early.... Something deep must be behind my meeting you, Panhandle Smith." "I hope to heaven it will be to your good as I know meeting you will be to mine," replied Pan fervently. "We're off the track," she broke in, and Pan imagined he saw a deeper red under her artificial color.
"Wal, I done that for every Tom, Dick an' Harry of a kid in this heah country," returned the old man, stroking his beard. "But durn if I recollect you." "Panhandle Smith," announced Pan, with just a little diffidence. Perhaps if he was not remembered personally he might have the good luck to be unknown in reputation.
Sheriffs from the Texas Panhandle would have recognized two of them as Al and Andy Arnold brother murderers. Another was a killer chased out of Dodge City, Kansas a slender, quick-fingered youth known as "Pick" Stephenson. Henry Shank a gunman from Lincoln, New Mexico strode in their lead. The fifth member of the quintet was the most terrible of them all.
Frances had heard him scoff at the man, Pete, for holding such a belief. If she attempted to capture this tramp by the fire, making the affair one of importance, the story of the Spanish treasure chest would spread over half the Panhandle. "What the boys didn't know wouldn't hurt them!" Frances told herself, and she would not ask for help.
Then, when all was ready for the drive Purcell sent for me. Ask him yourself." Pan did not answer to the suggestion. "Mac, what do you say to that?" he queried, sharply, but he never took his eyes off Purcell. "Hardman, you're a liar!" roared Mac New, sonorously. If ever Pan heard menace in a voice, it was then. "Take it back!" went on the outlaw, now with a hiss. "Square me with Panhandle Smith!"
In reality they were gradually climbing the range on an easy grade and making good time. Their course now paralleled the theoretical course of Panhandle and his fellows. Dodging the rugged land to the south, Cheyenne had swung round in a half-circle, hoping to head off Panhandle on the desert side of the range.
"Here comes Panhandle now. I'll do the talking." Watching from his darkened window, Cheyenne had seen Panhandle leave the Hole-in-the-Wall, and stride up the street alone. It was the first time Cheyenne had seen Sears since he had taken the single room opposite the gambling-house. Cheyenne stepped back, drew down the curtain, and turned on the light.
Panhandle stood crying beside his mother, watching their little home burn to the ground. Somehow in his mind the boy, Dick, had been to blame. Panhandle peered round to find him, but he was gone. Never would Panhandle forget that boy. They walked to the uncle's house and spent the night there. Soon another home was under construction on the same site.
"Goin' to trail him, Cheyenne?" came presently. "That's me." "Then let's pass the hat," suggested the first speaker. "Wait!" said Cheyenne, drawing a pair of dice from his pocket. "Somehow, and sometime, I aim to shoot Panhandle a little game. Then you guys can pass the hat for the loser. Panhandle left them dice on the flat rock, by the water-hole. My pardner, Bartley, found them."
Word Of The Day
Others Looking