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Updated: June 15, 2025
And it was only carved lately, too," he added simply, "'cause the wood is fresh." "Gee whillicums, but you're a peach, Slady!" said Archer ecstatically. "Shall we take a chance?" "Of course I don't know for sure," Tom added, "but we've got to go by signs just like Indian signs along a trail. If you pick up an old flint arrowhead you know you're on an Indian trail." "Christopherr Columbus!
I don't want anybody up here piking around just because I took a double header into space. And I don't want any doctors from Leeds or Catskill up here, either. Get me?" "If you get to sleep all right and don't have any fever, you won't need any doctor," Tom said; "and I won't go away till you're all right." "You're as white as a snowstorm, Slady," his friend said.
So I beat it, while the going was good. I started east, for little old New York. I intended to change my name and get a job there and lay low till I could make good. I thought they'd never find me in New York. My right name is Thornton, Slady. Red Thornton they call me out home, on account of this brick dome.
Thornton looked down into his hand and saw, through glistening eyes, the two dilapidated bonds, and a couple of crumpled ten-dollar bills and some odds and ends of smaller bills and currency. They represented the sumptuous fortune of Lucky Luke, alias Tom Slade. "And I thought you were going to ..." Thornton began; "Slady, I can't do this; it's all you've got." "It's no good to me," Tom said.
"Some boys," remarked one of the prisoners. "But findin's ain't fixin's," said a British soldier. "Oh, ain't they though!" said Archer. "We'll have it fixed in How long'll it take to fix it, Slady?" "Maybe a couple of days," said Tom. "Mybe a couple o' weeks," said the Britisher. "Mybe it won't, yer jolly good bloomin' ole London fag, you!" mimicked Archer. "It's as good as fixed already."
"I'm bad enough, goodness knows; but to put it over on a fellow like you, just because you're easy, it's it just makes me feel like Oh, I don't know like a sneak. I'm ashamed to look you in the face, Slady." Still Tom said nothing, only looked off through the trees below, where specks of white could be seen here and there amid the foliage.
"That's the way I do, sometimes," Tom said. "Is it? Well, you didn't this time old man. If I'm your friend, I'm going to be worth it. Do you get that?" "I told you you was." "Slady, I never knew what I was going to get up against, or I would never have tried to swing this thing. If you'd turned out to be a different kind of a fellow I wouldn't have felt so much like a sneak.
You've put it all over me and rubbed it in, and and instead of getting away with anything like I thought I'll just beat it away from here feeling like a bigger sneak than I ever thought I was. I've I've seen something here I have. I thought some of these trees were made of pretty good stuff, but you've got them beat, Slady.
I thought I was a wise guy to dig into this forsaken retreat and slip the bandage over your eyes, but but the laugh is on me, Slady, don't don't you see?" he smiled, his eyes glistening and his hand trembling on Tom's knee. "You've put it all over me, you old hickory-nut, and I've told you the whole business, and you've got me in your power, see?"
"It's fiber from a string tree," Tom said; "they grow in Lorraine in France." "Were you in France?" "Two years," Tom said. "How many merit badges have you got, anyway, Mr. Slady?" "Oh, I don't know," Tom said; "about thirty or thirty-five, I guess." "You guess? I bet you've got the Gold Cross. Where is it?"
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