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Updated: June 21, 2025
Sleep came quickly to the tired tourists, and soon there was no sound save the distant tinkle of the bell on one of the horses and the faint rumble of Mr. Penrose's slumbers.
Of course, we had turkey in every style after this hunt roast turkey, boiled turkey, fried turkey, "turkey on toast," and so on; and we appropriately called this place Camp Turkey. From this point on, for several days, we had no trouble in following Penrose's trail, which led us in a southeasterly direction towards the Canadian River. No Indians were seen, nor any signs of them found.
"I dunno," said the darkey; "we got lost, and we's been a starvin' eber since." By this time two other negroes had emerged from their place of concealment. They had deserted Penrose's command which was out of rations and nearly in a starving condition and were trying to make their way back to Fort Lyon.
Accompanied by four men I started out in the blinding snow storm, taking a southerly direction. We rode twenty-four miles, and upon reaching a tributary of the Cimarron, we scouted up and down the stream for a few miles and finally found one of Penrose's old camps.
The chorus of warnings was due to the fact that Aunt Lizzie already had fallen fourteen times in transit, a tack-head seeming sufficient to trip her up, and now, quite as though they had shouted the reverse, Aunt Lizzie stumbled and dropped the onyx apple upon old Mr. Penrose's felt-shod foot. This was too much. Mr. Penrose shouted furiously: "I wish you'd lose that damned thing!"
"Then this side of the door is mine and I can pound on it, for the same reason." Mr. Penrose sneered in the darkness: "I suppose you're some sour old maid you sound like it." "And no doubt you're a Methuselah with dyspepsia!" Wallie smote the pillow gleefully old Mr. Penrose's collection of bottles and boxes and tablets for indigestion were a byword.
Penrose's bellow of rage was heard above the chorus of voices demanding that Pinkey stop. But it was not until they were well on the road to the ranch, and Prouty was a speck, that the horses were permitted to slow down; then Pinkey turned and looked at Wallie admiringly. "You shore got a head on you, old pard! We wouldn't 'a' had a dude left if we'd let 'em out while they was mad."
"Apparently not when Captain Duggle left it if he was ever in it at all events not when he left the house, in whatever way and by whatever agency." "As to the latter point, I myself incline to Penrose's theory," said Mr. Naylor. "Delirium tremens, you know!" Beaumaroy puffed at his cigar.
In the interim its citizens returned to a slumber little less profound than that which supervened at night after the last roysterer had been ejected, by force, or persuasion, from the salubrious precincts of Ju Penrose's saloon.
'I don't know what you've heard, doctor, but I am resigning. 'Nonsense! Running away from ignorance, eh? What would you say if I ran away from disease? 'Canst thou minister to a mind diseased? was Mr. Penrose's sharp retort. 'No, I cannot. But you can, and it's your duty to do so. 'You're mistaken, doctor. I cannot go to the root of the moral disease of Rehoboth.
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