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Updated: July 27, 2025
Is he one of us? Has he ever been one of us? No! Look again! Dozier has hunted Lanning all over the mountain desert. Now he wants to save Dozier. Wants to risk his life for him. Wants to buy him from us! Why? Because he's turned crooked. He's turned soft. He wants to get under the wing of the law." But Jeff Rankin swept all argument away with a movement of his big paws. "Too much talk," he said.
He is just as unassuming and democratic as "my general." General Rankin took me into the office, a rude room, and we sat down at the long table there. Presently the door opened, and a man came in with a slouch hat on and his coat unbuttoned. He was smoking a cigar. We rose to our feet, and I saluted. It was the general-in-chief. He stared at me, but said nothing.
At four o'clock, which is the hour for the entrée of those who escape from their homes to fling themselves on the sanctuary of the club, Rankin, the architect, arrived with Stibo, the fashionable painter of fashionable women, who brought with him the atmosphere of pleasant soap and an exclusive, smiling languor.
Anderson, Rankin, and Burroughs, to conceal their nervousness, pleaded bodily fatigue, while Anthony also declared that he had enjoyed himself sufficiently for one night and intended to go home and to bed. "That episode rather got on my nerves," he acknowledged. "Mine, too," assented Locke. "That's why you mustn't leave me. I just won't let you. Remember, you agreed to see me off."
Two of the three months demanded by Dr. Rankin had passed. Yank's leg had been taken from the splint, and, by invoking the aid of stout canes, he succeeded in shifting around. But the trail to town was as yet too rough for him. Therefore a number of us were in the habit of spending our early evenings with him. We sat around the door, and smoked innumerable pipes, and talked sixty to the minute.
The question had scarcely formulated itself before she began again. "Why don't you answer me? Where are you?" she demanded, in the same husky whisper; "you needn't hide I know you are here. What have you done to that man? You said you would kill him; you promised me that, Rankin: have you done it?"
They stared before her at the glass door where McClane was entering. He came swaggering and slipped into his place between her and Alice Bartrum with his air of not seeing Mrs. Rankin, of not seeing Charlotte and John, of not seeing anything he didn't want to see. Presently he bobbed round in his seat so as to see Sutton, and began talking to him excitedly.
I liked him the first time I ever laid eyes on him. So did you all, except Larry, yonder. And it was Larry that turned you agin' him after he come and joined us. Who asked him to join us? We did!" "Who asked him to be captain?" said Scottie. It seemed to stagger Jeff Rankin. "Allister used him for a sort of second man; seemed like he meant him to lead us in case anything happened to him."
It was Mick Kennedy who spoke, but it was Mick transformed. "Rankin!" The great veins of the bartender's neck swelled; the red face congested until it became all but purple. "No! We won't go near him! He'd put a stop to the whole thing. What we want is men, not cowards!" A moment only the silence lasted. "All right," agreed Stetson. "Have another, boys! We'll drop Rankin!"
He was bound over to await the sitting of the court; but before that period arrived, he committed suicide." "N. B. This happened in 1811; if I be correct, it was on the 16th of December. It was on the Sabbath." Mr. Rankin adds, there was little probability that Mr. Lewis would have fallen under the sentence of the law.
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