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Updated: June 2, 2025
A sharp knife had cut away the rest so deftly that he had not felt its loss. Shorty's boiler got very hot at once, and he began blowing off steam. Somehow he had taken an especial fancy to that piece of canvas, and his wrath was hot against the man who had stolen it. "Condemn that onery thief," he yelled. "He ought to be drummed out o' camp, with his head shaved.
Occasionally, groups of men attempted to swing in behind to their pace, but invariably they were discouraged after a mile or two and disappeared in the darkness to the rear. "We've been out on trail all winter," was Shorty's comment. "An' them geezers, soft from layin' around their cabins, has the nerve to think they can keep our stride. Now, if they was real sour-doughs it'd be different.
The events of the rest of the night and of the morrow may be briefly told: Shorty's modest request of a glass of whiskey was granted him. Then, his hands still bound securely by Carson, he was put in the small grain-house, a windowless, ten-by-ten house of logs. An admirable jail this, with its heavy padlock snapped into a deeply embedded staple and the great hasp in place.
They had their ears tuned up to respond to even the rustle of the brown, dry leaves on the trees and the murmur of the creek over the stones. They even saw the white birches move around from place to place and approach the water, but Shorty's dire threat prevented their firing until they got something more substantial.
When he reached a point within a hundred yards of Lawler, the latter observed that Shorty's face was pale; that his jaws were set and his eyes glowing with a wild, savage light. Stiffening, his lips straightening, a responsive passion assailing him, Lawler drew Red King down and waited for Shorty to reach him. He knew Shorty did not permit himself to become excited without cause.
"Hit's me Brad Tingle. Don't yo' know my voice? Call off yer dogs. They'll eat me up." "Hullo, Brad; is that yo'? Whar'd yo' come from? Git out, thar, Watch! Lay down, Tige! Begone, Bones! Come on up, Brad." Shorty's imitations of Mrs. Bolster's voice and manner were so good as to deceive even the dogs, who changed their attitude of shrill defiance to one of fawning welcome.
I was trying to change my gun to the other hand, when I dropped it. I didn't seem to be able to get it again just then." He grinned. "Lucky you came, Shorty," he added jocosely. Shorty's lips grimmed. "I reckon it's lucky I'm here right now!" he said shortly. "You're hit bad, Lawler!"
"Tracking stations, report your readiness. Stand by. Lathrop Wells, report." A loud-speaker over his head replied instantly. "Lathrop Wells ready and tracking." Tonopah, Indian Springs, Mercury, Death Valley Junction, Shorty's Well, Chloride Cliff, Jubilee Pass: All ready and tracking. Then: "Careless Mesa." Big Mac's voice boomed forth. "Careless Mesa ready and tracking."
Two six-pane windows flanked the front door. The room was empty, except for the three men now entering. "You live here, Shorty?" asked Crawford curtly. "Yes." The answer was sulky and reluctant. "Alone?" "Yes." "Why?" snapped the cattleman. Shorty's defiant eyes met his. "My business." "Mine, too, I'll bet a dollar. If you're nestin' in these hills you cayn't have but one business." "Prove it!
She caught Shorty's arm with a fervor that made him thrill all over. WHEN the boys came to breakfast the next morning, they found Maria with the hollyhock effulgence of garb of the day before changed to the usual prim simplicity of her housedress. This meant admiration striking Shorty still dumber.
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