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"Don't say another word!" Mrs. Stover's bulky figure was already on the way to the door of the house. "I'm only too glad to do what I can. And, if I do say it, that shouldn't, I'm always real handy in a sick room. 'Bijah, be quiet; I don't care if we ARE on a picnic; no human bein' shall suffer while I set around and do nothin'." Mrs. Hains was at her cousin's heels.
It seemed like a thing of life and consciousness as he pushed it back into his tight pocket. John Sykes looked at him curiously. "Why, that's old Ma'am Stover's timepiece, ain't it? Lend it to ye, did she?" "Gave it to me," answered Elisha proudly. "You be careful of that watch," said the driver soberly; and Elisha nodded.
He stepped to the table, returned his own six-guns to their holsters and then reached out and seized Major Stover by the collar. He shook him like a rat as he jerked him to his feet. "Well, majah, as yo' calls yo'self," he drawled, "looks like the surprise worked the othah way round!" Stover's flabby face was blue-gray. His knees gave way under him and his coarse lips were twitching.
Theirs was an attitude of confidence tinged with caution. It was some time after midnight that Lawrence Glass had been the cause of a wild alarm that brought the denizens of the ranch out in night apparel. Jack Chapin, awakened by a cry for help, had found him in the hands of Carara and Cloudy, who had been doing night duty in accordance with Stover's orders.
"How does a person train in a room?" "Why, he just trains, that's all. A guy can't train without trainin'-quarters, can he?" "We thought it would make a nice gymnasium," offered Miss Blake. "Looks like business." Stover's admiration was keen. "I rode over to Gallagher's place last night and laid our bets." "How much have you wagered?" asked Fresno. "More'n we can afford to lose."
Major Stover had attempted to draw an ugly-looking derringer. The Kid calmly took it away from him and threw it across the room. He shook the land agent until his teeth rattled like dice in a box. "Mrs. Thomas' ranch, sah," he said crisply, "is not in the mahket!" With that he hurled the major back into his chair. There was a crashing, rending sound as Stover's huge body struck it.
Einstein, Slightly Used Gowns, nudges Mike's Eating-Place from the left, and on the right Stover's Vaudeville Agency for Lilliputians divides office-space and rent with the Vibro Health Belt Company. It is a kind of murky drain, which, flowing between, catches the refuse from Fifth Avenue and the leavings from Broadway.
Apparently he was helpless. But suddenly there was a swish a lightning-like gleam of light. Something hit Stover's gun arm like a thunder smash. Kid Wolf has used his "ace in the hole" had hurled the bowie knife hidden in a sheath sewn inside the back of his shirt collar. The major's hand went suddenly numb. He dropped the derringer. The blade had thudded into his forearm and sliced deeply upward.
I'd like to play him two games out o' three, cut-throat, for it. I could use it in my business." "No," said the Orderly to Si, with a strong Yankee twang, "I don't know a mite about the 200th Ind. Leastwise, I don't remember it. Everybody down here's from Indiana, Ohio or Illinois. It's one eternal mix, like Uncle Jed Stover's fish couldn't tell shad, herring nor sprat from one another.
Stover's voice was gruff as he commanded: "Forget it! Ain't it bad enough for us fellers to hang around like this every night without advertising our idiocy by a gun-play?" "They ain't got no right to that phonograph," Willie averred, darkly. "Oh yes, they have; they won it fair and square." "Fair and square! Do you mean to say Humpy Joe run that foot-race on the square?"
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