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Updated: May 25, 2025
"How about the teacher, Pete?" he asked, quietly, innocently. "They have a real fine teacher, I suppose? Man or woman?" "Nuther! She's a lady! An' she's that smart as would make a man wonder! In case there's anything as that same Miss Jocelyn Truxton don't know, I ain't wise to it none." "And pretty?" Lonesome Pete's joyous grin was like a beam of summer sunlight.
Pete's shock of hair stood up as usual like a scrubbing-brush; he wore no hat, and his dull eyes looked about from one to another eager face. Ben had strolled back of a tall pile of starch-boxes. "Is it true an areoplane come down in Mr. Carder's field yisterday?" The question volleyed at the dwarf from a dozen directions.
Mathilde, dropping her eyes, saw Pete's hand lying on the table. It was stubby, and she loved it the better for being so; it was firm and boyish and exactly like Pete. Looking up, she caught her mother's eye, and they both remembered.
"I should hope not," Tom assured him. "Have a cigar?" urged Pete, doffing his sombrero and taking out a big, black weed that he tendered the cub. "What's the matter with it?" asked Tom curiously. For just a second Bad Pete's eyes flashed. Then he choked back all signs of anger as he drawled: "The only matter with this cigar, pardner, is that it's a gen-u-wine Havana cigar."
But he, too, knew nothing of French Pete's murder. "To be sure," he said, after reflecting, "I've heard something about it and I have a slight recollection that I've run onto it at some time. There used to be considerable talk about the mine this here Basco had found and many a man has hunted all over the map after it. But it ain't never been found.
He made private inquiries at the hotel mentioned in Pete's telegram, but learned that the Fogers had gone on. "Perhaps I'm worrying too much," thought Tom. But an event that occurred a few nights later, when they were speeding across the continent showed him that there was need of great precaution.
Pete's cabbage and the accompanying corned beef had been excellent, although the table had been covered with a red cloth, the crockery of the thickest, unbreakable variety and a large toothpick holder the only ornament. Miss Denton always had flowers on the table and her china was what remained in the family after the administration of the hundred slaves.
She nodded indifferently and beckoned Pete to follow her. "I knew that you would think me a lie if I did not come," she told him, as they stood near the old corral Pete's impatience to be gone evident, as he shouldered his saddle. "But you will not ride tonight. You would die." "It's some hot but I aim to go through." "But no not to-night! For three days will it be like this! It is terrible!
From out of a doorway stepped a young fellow with his hand on his hip. Pete's six-gun flashed upward in a quarter curve even as the bullet crashed on its way. The youth staggered against the wall and sank together into a heap. Champa, every sense alert, fired again, then waited warily to make sure this was not a ruse of his victim.
"I'm not hankering to be the man that lays hands on you while he's around," Pete announced conclusively, nodding his head toward Buck. "Py Jingo!" was Hans's contribution. "Not mineself either." It was at Circle City, ere the year was out, that Pete's apprehensions were realized.
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