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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Well, spit it out and have it over with!" snapped Slavens, feeling that there was something behind the man's actions to which he had not given words. "That was a purty good coat I left with you that night," suggested Shanklin, looking up without the slightest stirring of humor in his dry face. "You're welcome to it, if that's all," said Slavens. "That's all. I was kind of attached to that coat."
There was a great deal owing to him yet from that man, in spite of what he had forced Shanklin to pay, and he meant to collect the balance before he left that state. So the rifle practice went ahead, day by day, supplemented by a turn now and then with Hun Shanklin's old black pistol, which Mackenzie had turned over to Slavens as part of his lawful spoil. While Dr.
He never could get much time. He went to Europe once with mamma. That was before I was born. It takes money to travel." Ross Shanklin did not know whether to agree with this statement or not. "But it doesn't cost tramps much for expenses," she took the thought away from him. "Is that why you tramp?" He nodded and licked his lips. "Mamma says it's too bad that men must tramp to look for work.
With nervous fingers Slavens untied the strip of handkerchief, turned his back, and slipped off a dollar bill. This he put on the table with a cautious leaning forward and a suspicious hovering over it with the hand, playing the part so well that Shanklin's sharp old eye was entirely deceived. "You win, friend," said Shanklin, pushing five dollars across the table.
Shanklin may be approached by the sea shore at low water or by Lake and Hillyards, if the high road be preferred.
Ross Shanklin was stunned. The vista shown him of human nature was unthinkable. It had been his lot to live in a world of suspicion and hatred, of evil-believing and evil-doing. It had been his experience, slouching along village streets at nightfall, to see little children, screaming with fear, run from him to their mothers.
With each feeble intake of breath blood bubbled from the blue mark, which looked like a little bruise, on his chest. "Well, see if you can make a fire, then, and hurry about it! Get some water on to boil as fast as you can!" Slavens directed the nerveless chief of police. Ten-Gallon set about his employment with alacrity while Slavens went over to Shanklin, turning his face up to the sky.
It was not the wounded body of Jerry Boyle that the pot-bellied peace officer feared, but the stiffening frame of Hun Shanklin, lying out there in the bright sun. Every time he looked that way he drew up on himself, like a snail.
The chalk-ranges to the southward provide magnificent scenery, and two miles from Sandown, but on higher ground, is Shanklin, from which its celebrated chine descends to the sea. This little ravine is about four hundred and fifty yards long and at its mouth about two hundred feet deep.
"You'd find it past a joke if you found yourself neck-and-crop in the gutter in two minutes," said Mr Shanklin, in a rage, "as you will do if you don't take care." "I'll take care for fifty pounds," said Durfy. "It's precious little share I've had out of the business, and if you want me mum, that's what will do it. There, I could tell you a thing or two already; you don't know " "Tush!
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