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Updated: May 3, 2025
With a curious noise, something between a bark and a groan, he flung himself with his face on the floor, and lay there howling. "Mr. Simms," said the master, "what has taken you? Were you the chief actor in this matter?" All considerations had disappeared from Mr. Simms's mind except the moment's terror.
Frankly, he admitted to himself that he had eaten far worse meals in more civilized communities. "Good morning, Jinny. I was so much interested in the breakfast that I forgot to say it when you first came in. This is very good. Did you cook it?" She nodded. "I thought so. You beat Old Hicks's cooking already. Hicks is the cook out on Mr. Simms's sheep ranch, where I come from. Understand?" "Yes."
I wanted them for a twenty-dollar velvet toque to match my new suit. If they are gathered from the ground, really, I couldn't use them." "Only in spots!" said Elnora. "They don't just cover the earth. Phoebe Simms's peacocks are the only ones within miles of Onabasha, and they moult but once a year. If your hat cost only twenty dollars, it's scarcely good enough for those quills.
They saw him now and a few scattering shots were sent in his direction, but the lad heeded them no more than had they been rain drops. His mind was too fully absorbed with the task he had set for himself. At last he and the rancher's pony were converging on a single point. Mr. Simms's pony reached it first with Tad only a few feet away.
"Would you like us all to be tried for our lives?" A suggestion which made matters worse; and Bill Simms's hair began to stand on end. "Huntley, have you any cognizance of this?" demanded Mr. Pye. "None, sir." And so said the three seniors under him.
Simms opened his eyes and asked what had happened. Tad told him, leaving out his own part in the rescue entirely, save that he had brought him in. The lad, after telling Mr. Simms that the cowboys had been driven off, helped the rancher to his tent and put him to bed, or rather induced him to lie down on his cot, for Mr. Simms's head was whirling.
We all but hit the Henry Clay Parker, Billie Simms's vessel, on the other side of the line, and it was on her that old Peter of Crow's Nest, leaping into the air and cracking his heels together, called out as we drove by: "The Johnnie Duncan wins the able Johnnie Duncan sailin' across the line on her side and her crew sittin' out on the keel."
The young lady must be furnished with everything she needed, and as quickly as possible. She needed, it appeared, about everything. The shrewd young Jew looked her over with his trained eyes. "Should you prefer our Miss Smith to proffer aid and advice? Miss Smith is an expert." Mr. Champneys reacted almost with terror against Nancy Simms's probable choice.
You see, the Almighty made and coloured those Himself; and He puts the same kind on Phoebe Simms's peacocks that He put on the head of the family in the forests of Ceylon, away back in the beginning. Any old manufactured quill from New York or Chicago will do for your little twenty-dollar hat.
"It's Philip Simms's hat," answered the foreman, fixing a stern eye on the old storekeeper. "Yes. I recognized it the instant I saw it," answered Ned. "Cavanagh, what does this mean?" demanded the foreman. "I think it's up to you to explain and mighty quick at that." "I I don't know anything about it," stammered the storekeeper. "Where did you get that hat?" "I bought it." "Off whom?"
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