Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 29, 2025
"T. Victor Sprudell, Wealthy Sportsman and Hero, Reluctantly Consents to Be Interviewed" was a headline which occurred to him as he went down in the elevator. The girl from the Dispatch awaited him in the parlor. Mr. Sprudell's genial countenance glowed as he advanced with outstretched hand.
He had seen enough of Bruce to guess something of his fixity of purpose when aroused and Dill's telegram confirmed it. But he had thought that, naturally, Bruce would return to the West at once from Bartlesville to try and hold his claims, from which, when he was ready, through a due process of law, if necessary, Sprudell would eject him.
She murmured, with a smile of amusement, as Sprudell laid the telegram down: "Here, coming in the lead, is our unfailing news supply Winfield Harrah. You've heard of him no doubt. Behind him, the big one that huge chap with the black eyes, is the mysterious Samson from the West who whipped the 'Spanish Bull-dog. 'The Man from the Bitter Roots' I think they call him."
To die in the pitiless hills like any penniless prospector! His check-book was as useless as a bent weapon in his hand, and his importance in the world counted for no more than that of the Chinaman, by his side. Mr. Sprudell lay down again, weak from an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
It did not take Sprudell long to realize that Uncle Bill was correct in his assertion that he would have been lost alone in fifteen yards. He would have been lost in less than that, or as soon as the full force of the howling storm had struck him and the wind-driven snow shut out the tent.
Helen came from the cloak room and stopped short at seeing Bruce and Sprudell in conversation. Certainly this was an evening of surprises. "Are you ready, Miss Dunbar?" Sprudell placed loud emphasis upon the name. She nodded. Sprudell, who was walking to meet her, glanced back at Bruce with a smile of malice but it was wasted upon Bruce, who was looking at the girl.
Bruce contributed cordially: "Sprudell, you just dust along whenever you get ready." "You'll repent this both of you!" His voice shook with chagrin and fury "I'll see to that if it takes the rest of my life and my last dollar." Bruce warned in mock solicitude: "Don't excite yourself, it's bad for your heart; I can tell that from your color."
It was unlikely, he reasoned, that a man who voluntarily read, for instance, "Contributions to the Natural History of the United States," would split his skull when his back was turned. Yet they smacked of affectation to Sprudell, who associated good reading with good clothes. "These are your books you read them?" There was skepticism, a covert sneer in Sprudell's tone.
Outside, the wind was still sweeping the stinging snow before it like powder-driven shot. What a fool he was to attempt it to risk his life and for what? It was with immeasurable satisfaction that Sprudell told himself that but for his initiative they would have been there yet. These fellows needed a leader, a strong man the ignorant always did.
It isn't a great deal but " he laid in her hand the bank-notes Sprudell had been obliged to give him in Bartlesville after having denied finding her. Helen looked from the money to Bruce in surprised inquiry: "But Mr. Sprudell has already given me what Freddie left." "Oh, this is another matter a collection I made for him after Sprudell left," he replied glibly.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking