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Updated: May 24, 2025
In the case of a man who was hurt, he said, the law allowed such a course. The section-boss, thus saved the arduous trip, signed the necessary papers with a jubilant mark. Then came Old Michael for a time or two. It seemed at first as if he were to be a favourite. He could adapt himself with all the art of his race.
Back in his store, Lounsbury was mixing brown sugar with white, oolong tea with a green variety, and putting thread in the pickle-barrel. Simultaneously, he was torturing himself: Had the section-boss left home with no danger threatening? But the green pung was undoubtedly bound for Bismarck. What was it that had suddenly made him see the necessity of attending to the claim?
"The last time Mr. Lounsbury was here," she said, hesitatingly, "it was the 6th, and to-day is " "Ah c'n git it," the section-boss interrupted. After a moment's tallying on his fingers, he sat back and clapped his knees in excitement. "W'y, Dallas!" he cried, "th' day after t'-morrow's the end o' thet man's six months!" Dallas released Marylyn.
"I'll trust Old Michael." He set himself to being agreeable, and especially toward the section-boss. He told of the Norwegian at Medicine Mountain, and of the old man who lived with wife and children at the "little bend" up the river; he admired the Navajo blankets, and explained their symbolic figures of men, animals and suns; he leaned back, clasping a knee, and branched into comical stories.
The section-boss giggled nervously. "Ef th' town was right here, it would n' make no difference t' Dallas. Ah'll bet she'll spen' th' winter shellin' cawn fer plantin', an' pickin' cockle outen th' wheat." He fell to tugging at his goatee. Again there was silence. Then, with a deep breath, Dallas straightened to speak.
The interview in the trough of the drift was so brief that David Bond was shut out of it. But had it been longer had he been given a chance to speak the result might have been the same. The section-boss had been mute all the way to Clark's. The fact that Dallas had told him to relate the story of the claim was the strongest reason for his not doing so.
Pretty good to them." "Yes. From what I understand, they're pretty good to him." They followed leisurely, and took up a stand in the cottonwoods above the landing to discuss the situation. At the very outset, Lounsbury determined not to speak of the plan that included Mrs. Martin's aid, the rebuff he had suffered from the section-boss having decided him against it.
The evangelist walked up and down. It was not long before the silence told on the section-boss and forced him to talk. "Ef you-all got anythin' t' say," he snarled presently, "y' might as well spit it out." No one answered. "Ah got jes' this t' say:" he continued, "Ah ain't goin' t' hev no lubber o' a storekeep slaverin' aroun' my gals!" Again no one answered.
"The basket, boys, the basket." "W'y, Lawd!" cried the section-boss, winking against the light; "ain't they no blizzard?" A trooper with a chevroned sleeve saluted them. His air was jaunty. His face beamed. "There was, sir, last night," he said gaily, "but there hain't none now. Clear has ha bell, sir." "Y' fr'm th' Post?" demanded Lancaster, trying to look severe.
"He was put in a furnace. Remember the furnace, pa?" "With th' lions!" cried the section-boss. "Certainly Ah do." "Oh, pa, that isn't the story." Evan stroked his moustache. "Ah'm kinda offen th' trail, honey, ain't Ah?" he said aside.
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