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Updated: June 13, 2025
An old feller by the name of Rufe Daniels who wouldn't jine the night-riders had been shot to death on his own door step, jest about a mile away, only a week or so before. The night-riders mostly used these here automatic shot-guns, but they didn't bother with birdshot. They mostly loaded their shells with buckshot.
With a flashing cross-fire from eye to eye, the two passed, each with his thumb on the hammer of his Winchester. The groups on the court-house steps stopped talking as he rode by, and turned to look at him. He saw none of his own friends, and he went on at a gallop to Rufe Stetson's store. His uncle was not in sight. Steve Marcum and old Sam Day stood in the porch, and inside a woman was crying.
Keep him chasin', and while the rest of the boys are gatherin' cattle Rufe and me will move a few sheep." "Well, say," broke in Ben Reavis impatiently, "where do us fellers come in on this play? I thought there was goin' to be a few shap lessons and a little night work."
Jubal Perkins broke into a derisive guffaw. "What ails ye, Andy?" he cried. "Though ye never seen no harnt, ye 'pear ter be fairly witched by that thar tricked-out blackberry bush." Rufe shrugged up his shoulders, and began to shiver in imaginary terror over a fancied fire. "Old Mis' Price's harnt!" he wheezed. The point of view makes an essential difference.
But I observed that one of the Hanson lads came down, before their departure, and returned with a ship's kettle. Happy Hansons! Nor was it until after Kelmar was gone, if I remember rightly, that Rufe put in an appearance to arrange the details of our installation.
"Pig-wigs Griggs," replied Rufe, unexpectedly. A glance of intelligence passed between the men. "Tell 'bout it, Rufe," said the tanner, suppressing all appearance of excitement. "Ye ain't goin' ter do nuthin' ter Pig-wigs fur foolin' with yer pit, ef I tell ye?" asked Rufe, quickly. "Naw, bub, naw. Which Griggs do ye call 'Pig-wigs?" "Why PIG-WIGS," Rufe reiterated obviously. Then he explained.
To Ronalds, at least, the mine belonged; but the notice by which he held it would ran out upon the 30th of June or rather, as I suppose, it had run out already, and the month of grace would expire upon that day, after which any American citizen might post a notice of his own, and make Silverado his. This, with a sort of quiet slyness, Rufe told me at an early period of our acquaintance.
Suddenly a wild hoot of derision rent the air; the echoes answered, and all the ravine was filled with the jeering clamor. "The wust luck in the worl'!" plained poor Rufe, as the ill-omened cry rose again and again. "'Tain't goin' ter s'prise me none now, ef I gits my neck bruk along o' this resky foolishness in this cur'ous place whar owELS watch from the lookout ez dead men hev lef'."
"Waal, how did the grant git inter the pit, Rufe, an' what hev become of it?" asked Byers, overlooking these personalities, for he felt a certain anxiety in the matter, being the last person known to have seen the grant, which, by reason of his delay and indecision, had again been spirited away. "Pig-wigs put it thar, I tell ye," reiterated Rufe.
Tyke and Drew promised that they would, and, with a cordial handshake, Captain Hamilton left the office. Grimshaw carefully stowed the map and paper away in his safe, and then turned to Drew. "Named his craft after the daughter he spoke of, I reckon Bertha Hamilton. Well, perhaps it'll bring us luck. Cap'n Rufe is some seaman, an' no mistake."
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