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Updated: June 6, 2025
It wasn't a bad sort of thing for Spindler to do, considering that they were his poor relations, though they didn't know him from Adam, was it?" He paused; several of the bystanders cleared their throats, but said nothing. "At least," resumed Bracy, "that's what the boys up at Red Hill, Oregon, thought, when they heard of it.
"I'll send for Doc Spindler and have him look at your ankle, honey," the father announced at once. "Oh, it's all right bruised up a bit that's all," Beulah objected. "We'll make sure, Boots. Slap a saddle on and ride for the Doc, Hal." When the young man had left the room, his father turned again to Roy. His arm gathered in the girl beside him. "We're sure a heap obliged to you, Mr. Street.
Saltover and my sister to consult." But here Spindler's simple face showed such signs of distress that the widow declared she would "think it over," a process which the sanguine Spindler seemed to consider so nearly akin to talking it over that Mrs. Price began to believe it herself, as he hopefully departed. She "thought it over" sufficiently to go to Sacramento and excuse herself to her nieces.
The forester's pupil, the idiot, had poured a whole glass of beer down the front of it, when she was tenderly leaning against him just before they left the table. She was beside herself with grief. "You can send it to Spindler in Berlin," said Mrs. Tiralla consolingly. "There is also a very good dry cleaner in Posen.
They met again on the following day; but at the end of the week Spindler was taken ill, and had to go to bed. As Daniel entered the residence of his old friend one morning, he learned that he had died suddenly the night before. It had been a peaceful death. On the third day, Daniel followed the funeral procession to the cemetery.
There was a thrill and a hush as this last guest a beautiful girl, radiant with youth and adornment put a dainty glass to her sparkling eye and advanced familiarly, with outstretched hand, to Dick Spindler. Mrs. Price gave a single gasp, and drew back speechless. "Uncle Dick," said a laughing contralto voice, which, indeed, somewhat recalled Mrs.
There were not half-a-dozen families in Rough and Ready; nobody ever knew before that Spindler had any relations, and this "ringing in" of strangers to the settlement seemed to indicate at least a lack of public spirit.
Spindler had trusted the furnishing of its interior to the same contractor who had upholstered the gilded bar-room of the Eureka Saloon, and who had apparently bestowed the same design and material, impartially, on each. There were gilded mirrors all over the house and chilly marble-topped tables, gilt plaster Cupids in the corners, and stuccoed lions "in the way" everywhere.
"They've nearly all of 'em written to me for money, seeing my name in the paper ez hevin' made a strike," returned Spindler simply; "and hevin' sent it, I jest know their addresses." "Oh!" said Mrs. Price, returning to the stocking. Something in the tone of her ejaculation increased Spindler's embarrassment, but it also made him desperate. "You see, Mrs.
"We so wanted to see you, Aunt Huldy, for we've heard something so delightful about your funny Christmas Party!" Mrs. Price's heart sank, but her eyes snapped. "Only think of it! One of Mr. Spindler's long-lost relatives a Mr. Wragg lives in this hotel, and papa knows him. He's a sort of half-uncle, I believe, and he's just furious that Spindler should have invited him.
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