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Updated: May 2, 2025
Shorty carried the sack and the paper across the room and handed them to the weigher, who sat behind a large pair of gold-scales. Out of Shorty's sack he weighed 350 dollars, which he poured into the coffer of the house. "That hunch of yours was another one of those statistics," Smoke jeered. "I had to play it, didn't I, in order to find out?" Shorty retorted.
Here was cached a quantity of dried salmon and a sort of pemmican, which the Indians added to their packs. From this camp a trail of many snow-shoes led off Shorty's captors, was Smoke's conclusion; and before darkness fell he succeeded in making out the tracks Shorty's narrower snow-shoes had left. On questioning the Indians by signs, they nodded affirmation and pointed to the north.
And when Shorty's horse struck the edge of town Shorty headed him straight for the Wolf, veering when he reached it and passing to the open space from which ran an outside stairway. The other men followed Shorty's example, and they were close at his heels when he slipped off his horse and ran around to the front of the Wolf.
But see if you can't get Crowdy to squeal. We're shy Shorty's real name, too, you know." To all questions put him, Bill Crowdy answered with stubborn denial of knowledge or not at all. He had been alone; he didn't know any man named Quinnion; he didn't know anything about Shorty. And he hadn't robbed Miller. That canvas bag, then, with the thousand dollars in it?
Shorty's hand went blindly to his head; he looked dazed, breathless. "Lady Bennington a halfbreed!" was all he said. "Yes, Lady Bennington," said Hal. "And now will you let Shag read that address?" But Shag was at his elbow. "Hal, Hal, oh, why did you tell them?" he cried. Hal whirled about like one shot. "Tell them what do you mean by tell them? Did you know this all along?"
Everything about the usually cheerful farm-house was shrouded in palpable gloom. The papers of the day before, with their ghastly lists of the dead and wounded, had contained Si's and Shorty's names, besides those of other boys of the neighborhood, in terrific, unmistakable plainness. There were few homes into which mourning had not come.
"And Smoke's and mine," was Shorty's retort. "I forbid you," Sprague said harshly. "Smoke, if you go another step I'll discharge you." "And you, too, Shorty," Stine added. "And a hell of a pickle you'll be in with us fired," Shorty replied. "How'll you get your blamed boat to Dawson? Who'll serve you coffee in your blankets and manicure your finger-nails? Come on, Smoke. They don't dast fire us.
The "banker" picked up the dice with seeming carelessness, dropped them into the box, gave them a little shake, and rolled them out. Two threes and a six came up. The "banker's" face lighted up with triumph, and Shorty's deadened into acute despair. "I guess that little change is mine," said the "banker" reaching for the pile. "Hold on a minnit.
Right face forward file left March!" AFTER the flush of excitement of returning to his old regiment and meeting his comrades after the process of readjusting himself to the changed relations made by death, wounds, discharges, resignations and promotions after the days had brought a settling back into the old routine of camp-life, there developed in Shorty's heart growing homesickness for Maria Klegg.
An impulse of anger flamed up in Shorty's heart. How dared Si speak that way to such a peerless creature? How could he talk to her as if she were some ordinary girl? "O, of course, you're hungry," Maria answered. "Never knowed you when you wasn't. You're worse'n a Shanghai chicken eat all day and be hungry at night. But I expect you are really hungry this time. Come on.
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