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Updated: May 8, 2025
Again he looked toward Ware, who, dry-lipped and ashen, was regarding him steadfastly. Glance met glance, for a brief instant they looked deep into each other's eyes and then the hand Slosson had rested on Murrell's shoulder dropped at his side. The judge's and Mr.
"Yes, sir," responded the soldier promptly. "It's an extra-dangerous detail, and you may lose your life." "I'll chance it, sir. I broke my pipe in one of the rushes here, and I want to get back to barracks and get another." Lieutenant Prescott could not repress a laugh over such a reason. Slosson joined in, good-humoredly and respectfully.
Slosson, lifting his chin, and still puffing, "it would be extremely interesting to hear his story at any rate. I was just telling Mr. Wrissell about it. Come this way, sir. I've heard some strange things in my time, but " He stopped. "Please follow me, sir," he ordained. "I'm dashed if I'll follow you!" Edward Henry desired to say, but he had not the courage to say it.
One day, stopping to mail a letter at the Glen Ellen post office, they were hailed by the blacksmith. "Say, Daylight," he said, "a young fellow named Slosson sends you his regards. He came through in an auto, on the way to Santa Rosa. He wanted to know if you didn't live hereabouts, but the crowd with him was in a hurry.
With this caution he led the way into the tavern and back through the bar to a low-ceilinged room where Murrell and Slosson were already at table. It was intolerably hot, and there lingered in the heavy atmosphere of the place stale and unappetizing odors.
His manner was far less bullying than in the room of Mr. Vulto. "It's your turn now, Mr. Slosson," said Edward Henry. "My turn? How?" "To go on with the story." He glanced at the clock. "I've brought it up to date 11.15 o'clock this morning anno domini." And as Mr.
"Don't get me wrong," Slosson hastened to qualify. "She's square; understand?" "Of course; 'object, matrimony. It's the old story, and her mother will see to the ring and the orange blossoms. But what's the difference, after all, Slosson? It 'll be hell for her, and a sale to the highest bidder, either way."
Slosson and he endeavored to share the confidence he was feeling with Betty, but there was something so forced and unnatural in the girl's voice and manner when she discussed his conjectures that he quickly fell into an awed silence. At last, and it must have been some time after midnight, troubled slumbers claimed him. No moment of forgetfulness came to Betty.
"It's Slosson," the barkeeper told him, in answer to his query. "He's the heavy-hammer thrower at the U.C. Broke all records this year, and the world's record on top of it. He's a husky all right all right." Daylight nodded and went over to him, placing his own arm in opposition. "I'd like to go you a flutter, son, on that proposition," he said.
She divined what was in his mind, of which his twinkling eyes and sheepish, boyish grin gave sufficient advertisement, and she smiled and nodded acquiescence. "We'll cut across by Bennett Valley," he said. "It's nearer that way." There was little difficulty, once in Santa Rosa, of finding Slosson.
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