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Updated: May 7, 2025
If there was any feeling in his heart, either of resentment or otherwise, toward the girl the Ramblin' Kid hid it. The look he gave her was one of unfathomable humility and indifference. Chuck wheeled Silver Tip to the side of the car and stopped. His eyes were filled with frank admiration as he gazed at the girl.
Both went directly to the livery stable and saw that Captain Jack and Old Pie Face were properly attended to. While at the barn Skinny took the bundle he had wrapped in the bunk-house at the ranch from the saddle where he had tied it. "What's that?" the Ramblin' Kid queried. "It's that darned shirt!" Skinny retorted. "I'm going to make Old Leon eat it it wasn't the size Parker asked for!"
Bert commented. "Wonder where the Ramblin' Kid is " "S-h-hh! Yonder he is," Charley Saunders said, observing the figure under the shed, " asleep. Come on away and let him rest!" "Breakfast's ready anyhow," Old Heck added. "And Skinny ain't shaved or powdered his face yet " Chuck laughed; "these lovers ought to fix themselves up better!" "Shut up, you blamed idiot, ain't you got no respect?"
You'll need somebody to ride herd on you while you're snortin' around. Anyhow, I feel like goin' on a tear myself not a drunk a man's a darned fool that'll let any woman make a whisky barrel out of him! But I got an itchin' for a little poker game or somethin'. Wait till I get Captain Jack!" "Where's Skinny and th' Ramblin' Kid?"
Charley asked. "When I ain't usin' her I'll 'neck' her to Captain Jack," the Ramblin' Kid answered patiently, referring to the method of fastening a wild horse to one that is gentle and prevent its running away, by attaching a short length of rope to the neck of each. "I don't believe she'd leave th' stallion anyhow!"
The old life of the road ... the vague to-morrows of indolence ... the sprightly companionship of Overland Red, inventive, eloquent.... "Red, if I come with you, it's because I can't stand seeing her after everything that has happened. It is square to her, too, I guess." "I ain't askin' you, Collie, but there's nothin' like ramblin' to make you forget.
Below him the river whirled in dark eddies under the overhanging curtains of cottonwoods and willows; the Quarter Circle KT lay in the hollow of the valley, like a faint etching of silent restfulness; through the tops of the trees a white splash of moonlight struck on the smooth level surface of the treacherous quicksand bar that had drawn Old Blue down to an agonizing death and from which, scarcely a month ago, the Ramblin' Kid had dragged Carolyn June.
Carolyn June went back into the house with conflicting emotions surging through her heart. She believed she knew why the Ramblin' Kid had elected to ride the outlaw filly to-night. But her thoughts she kept to herself. For an hour longer the dance continued. But not with the spirit of earlier in the evening.
His arms were bound with a rope, and he was led up the Canongate towards the well-remembered Council Chamber, in company with Ramblin' Peter, who, owing to his size and youth, was not bound, but merely held in the grasp of one of the guards.
They could hear his breath coming in harsh, terrible gasps. The sand seemed to be deliberately torturing him as though it were some hellish thing, alive and of fiendish cunning, that grasped its victim and then paused in his destruction to gloat over his hopeless agony. The Ramblin' Kid sat Captain Jack and watched. "Why did God ever want to make that stuff anyhow!" sprang hoarsely from his lips.
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