United States or Niger ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
The skins of a grizzly bear and a timber wolf lay on the floor, and two moose heads looked down from opposite ends of the room. On the walls hung other trophies won by Y.D.'s rifle, along with hand-made bits of harness, lariats, and other insignia of the ranchman's trade. The rancher took his guests' hats, and motioned each to a seat.
And at this juncture Esther Isbel came over to take another gaze out upon the meadows. Jean saw her suddenly start violently, then stiffen, with a trembling hand outstretched. "Look!" she cried. "Esther, get back," ordered the old rancher. "Keep away from that window." "What the hell!" muttered Blaisdell. "She sees somethin', or she's gone dotty." Esther seemed turned to stone. "Look!
It was for the purpose of learning the truth in the matter that Warren watched him with the utmost closeness, holding his own weapon ready to use the instant the other made a hostile demonstration. The action or rather inaction of the other Sioux at the base of the ridge was suggestive, and increased the suspicion of the young rancher.
"Well, as I was panting along like a 'heavey horse, as Harry Hobbs would say, not really too bad, dad, along comes that big rancher, Stewart Duff, driving his team of pinto bronchos, and with him a chap named Bayne, from Red Pine Creek. He turned out to be an awfully decent sort. And Duff's dog, Slipper, ranging on ahead, a beautiful setter." "Yes, I have seen him."
He was wondering what Hervey had come over for. He had no wish for his company just then. He had hoped to spend this evening alone. His mind was still in a state of feverish turmoil. However, he decided that he would get rid of the man as quickly as the laws of hospitality would allow. A silence fell whilst the rancher waited to hear the object of the visit.
"Belllounds, I can make you swallow that kind of talk," interrupted Wade. "It's man to man now. An' I'm a match for you any day. Savvy?... Do you think I'm damn fool enough to come here an' brace you unless I knew that. Talk to me as you'd talk about some other man's son." "It ain't possible," rejoined the rancher, stridently.
To-day a number of travelers were dragged from their horses by the reatas of swarthy ambuscaders in the Tuolomne County foot-hills and to-morrow a rancher down in the valley found the bodies of his murdered herders to mark the beginning of the trail left by his stolen cattle.
The rancher thought it best to wait till after the round-up before he turned over the foremanship to his son. This was wise, but Jack did not see it that way. He showed that his old, intolerant spirit had, if anything, grown during his absence. Belllounds patiently argued with him, explaining what certainly should have been clear to a young man brought up in Colorado.
"Bill Bryant," corrected the other, grasping and wringing the policeman's proffered hand with painful cordiality. "That's a good name Fyles," he went on, releasing the other's hand. "Suggests all sorts of things nails, chisels something in the hardware line. Good name for this country, too." Then his big blue eyes scanned the officer's outfit. "Rancher?" he suggested.
The gross injustice of the idea made him flush hotly, but he was far too wise to expose his hand to the wily old insurrecto leader, who was watching them with an eager look on his withered, yellow face. "There is near here," continued the general, "a mine I have had my eyes on for a long time. It belongs to a Señor Merrill, a rancher " The general broke off abruptly.
Word Of The Day