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Updated: June 4, 2025
He laughed and laughed, while the match he had just lighted flared, sent up a blue thread of brimstone smoke, licked along the white wood and scorched his fingers painfully before he remembered his cigarette. Miss Satterly turned abruptly and went into the house, put on her hat and took up the little, tin lard-pail in which her aunt Meeker always packed her lunch.
Miss Satterly told him that she had already spoken to Annie, and that Annie was willing if Happy Jack had no objections. Happy Jack had, but he could not bring himself to mention the fact. The schoolma'am had not quoted Annie's reply verbatim, but that was mere detail.
Weary laughed reminiscently. "She said I think you misunderstood her. She appears to " Miss Satterly, though she felt that she was being very generous, did not quite know how to finish. "Not on your life! It was the first time I ever did understand Myrt. When I left there I wasn't doing any guessing."
John Satterly, Carpenter, a man much Esteem'd by me and every Gentleman on board. In his room I appoint George Nowell, one of the Carpenter's Crew, having only him and one more left. Wind South-South-East; course South 71 minutes West; distance 83 miles; latitude 21 degrees 25 minutes South; longitude 284 degrees 46 minutes West. Wednesday, 13th. Weather as Yesterday.
He felt when she drew the cloth aside; she stopped short off in the middle of telling him something Miss Satterly had said some whimsical thing and he could hear his heart pounding in the silence which followed.
Weary looked at her also, but he did not smile, because she looked a little like his own schoolma'am, Miss Ruty Satterly and the resemblance hurt a sore place in his heart. " So if any of you gentlemen could possibly take us out to the tract, we'd be eternally grateful, besides keeping our independence intact with the usual payment. Could you help us out?"
"Look up here, Schoolma'am," he commanded at last. "I hate to have my feet get so much attention. I've come back to fight it out to a finish, this time. Yuh can't stampede me again look up here. I've been plumb sick for a sight of those big eyes of yours." Miss Satterly persisted in gazing at the boots of Weary. "Well, are yuh going to?"
"I drifted, right before supper." "Did you?" Miss Satterly accented the first word in a way she taught her pupils indicated surprise. "I don't reckon you noticed it. You were pretty busy, about then." Miss Satterly laughed languid assent. "I never knew before that Bert Rogers was any relation of Myrt Forsyth," observed Weary, edging still nearer the vital point. "They sure aren't much alike."
It is not the gopher that I care for so much it is the principle." Weary sighed and slid the gun back into his pocket. It seemed to him that Miss Satterly, adorable as she always was, was also rather unreasonable at times. "All right, I'll get yuh another principle, then." "Mr. Davidson," she said sternly, "you are perfectly odious!" "Is that something nice, Girlie?"
Miss Satterly sat more erect, if that were possible. She had not known of this last meeting, and she had merely shot at random, anyway. "At least," he amended, watching her from the corner of his eye, "I saw a woman and a man ride over the hill back of Denson's, last night. The man was Bert, and the woman had red hair; I took it to be Myrt."
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