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Updated: June 22, 2025
Presently Prince threw a bullet into the dust at the feet of one of the horses as they moved forward. It was meant as a warning not to come closer and accepted as one. After a minute of consultation a single horseman rode to the bank of the stream. "You over there," he shouted. "It's dad," said Lee. "You'd better surrender peaceable. We've come to git you alive or dead," shouted Snaith.
Maitland remarked a voice well modulated and a good choice of words. He rose courteously. "I should be pleased to do so," he suggested, "if you could advance any reasons for such a request." Mr. Snaith smiled discreetly, fumbling in his side pocket. A second slip of cardboard appeared between his fingers as he stepped over toward Maitland.
These braces are secured to the fingers about eight inches from the standard. The other end of the wire is then passed through the snaith and drawn tight by means of a screw-nut. At eleven o'clock, cakes and pailfuls of tea were served round. At one, we were summoned by the sound of a tin bugle to dinner, which we found laid out in the barn.
Year by year the feeling had grown more bitter, That Snaith and McRobert backed the river settlers was an open secret. A night herder had been shot from the mesquite not a month before.
He was a sandy-complexioned man with a furtive-eyed, apologetic manner. Miss Bertie Lee recognized him as one of the company riders named Dumont. "Is yore paw home, Miss Lee?" he asked breathlessly. "Some one to see you, dad," called the girl over her shoulder. Wallace Snaith sauntered out to the porch. "'Lo, Dumont!" "I claim that hundred dollars reward. I done found 'em, Mr. Snaith."
"Maybe Roush an' Champa have been given orders to take care of Jim." Jean doubted this and said so. "Snaith doesn't play his hand under the table. But, of course, Sanders may have tipped 'em off to do it." Clanton joined them presently and the three men walked downtown. The gay smile dropped from Jim's face the moment he stepped down from the porch.
It was bad form to use the word "murder." The correct way to speak of the result of a disagreement was to refer to it as "a killing." Law lay for every man in a holster on his own hip. Snaith recognized this and accepted it. He was ready to "bend a gun" himself if occasion called for it. What he objected to in this particular killing was the personal affront to him.
Snaith, still unconvinced, hesitated, then assented, halting a brief distance from Maitland and toying abstractedly with his cane while the young man plucked at the draw-string. "Deuced tight knot, this," commented Maitland, annoyed. "No matter. Don't trouble, please. I'm quite satisfied, believe me." "Oh, you are!"
"'Snaith'? But I never heard the name before. What does he look like?" "A gintleman, sor, be th' clothes av him an' th' way he talks." "Well.... Devil take the man! Show him in." "Very good, sor." Maitland swung around in his desk chair, his back to the window, expression politely curious, as his caller entered the room, pausing, hat in hand, just across the threshold.
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