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Updated: June 27, 2025
"Listen, Jack! Reddy says he's got some runnin' orders for the Flyer and she's got to stop to get 'em. That means we can eat breakfast in Usher, 'stead of here. No tellin' who'll be on the six-forty headed for the same place, tomorrow mornin'." Corliss pondered. His plan of homesteading the water-hole ranch had been upset by the arrest of Sundown. Still, that was no reason for giving up the plan.
Stiles, slowly; "it's also evident that if you tell her the truth it might spoil my chances. I don't say it would, but it might. That being so, I'm agreeable to going back without seeing her again by the six-forty train to-morrow morning if it's made worth my while." "Made worth your while?" repeated the other. "Certainly," said the unblushing Mr. Stiles.
Stiles, slowly; "it's also evident that if you tell her the truth it might spoil my chances. I don't say it would, but it might. That being so, I'm agreeable to going back without seeing her again by the six-forty train to-morrow morning if it's made worth my while." "Made worth your while?" repeated the other. "Certainly," said the unblushing Mr. Stiles.
And I didn't have to strain my guesser any, to guess who. I told him to saw off and get busy quick or I'd have him pinched for playin' favorites. Guess he seen I meant business, for he come acrost. She toots for Antelope six-forty tomorrow mornin'. This is where I make the grand play as a homesteader, seein' pore Sundown's eatin' on the county. Kind o' had a hunch that way."
"How come they allowed Dale to take up a six-forty?" he inquired. "They didn't," was the answer. "The section is made up of four claims, his'n, Jane's, Molly's, an' Mis' Dale's. But they're proved up now, and made over to him all regular. That's how come." "Haven't Silvertip Ransom and Long Oscar got a claim some'ers over yonder on Dale's land?" inquired Racey, looking toward the northerly ridge.
"Nick Temple!" I cried, starting forward. "Where's he gone?" said Mr. Jackson. "He was going to bet me a six-forty he has at Nashboro that his horse could beat mine on the Greasy Cove track. Where's he gone?" "Gone!" said the landlord, apologetically, "Nollichucky Jack and his boys left town an hour ago." "Is he a man of honor or isn't he?" said Mr. Jackson, fiercely.
Brown's negro came back struggling with a deep-ribbed, high-crested chestnut that was making half circles on his hind legs, "I'll give you to the edge of the woods, and lay you a six-forty against a pair of moccasins that you never get back to Tipton." "God forbid that I ever do," I answered fervently. "What," he exclaimed, "and you here with him on this sneak's errand!"
"Well, if it's that bad," he grinned, "you might take the five-five to Providence and pick up the six-forty there. But you'll have to git a move on." Kedzie got a move on. The train swept her out along the edge of Rhode Island. She knew nothing of its heroic history. She cared nothing for its heroic splendor. She thought of it only as the stronghold of an embattled aristocracy.
Time to be dressing: sun sets at six-forty, he said, and glanced at the stained West, with an accompanying vision of outspread primroses flooding banks of shadowy fields near Lakelands. He crossed the road and rang. Upon the opening of the door, there was a cascade of muslin downstairs. His darling Fredi stood out of it, a dramatic Undine.
The conversation outside the study, was shorter still. "Jeffco, see what time the tidal train starts to-morrow morning." "At six-forty, Mr. Franklin." "Have me called at five." "Going abroad, sir?" "Going, Jeffco, wherever the railway chooses to take me." "Shall I tell your father, sir?" "Yes; tell him at the end of the session." The next morning Mr. Franklin had started for foreign parts.
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