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Updated: June 28, 2025
I I'll run indoors." "Not a bit like it," declared Stover. "You'll get your daily run if we have to lay off all the punchers on the place and put 'em on as a body-guard." "But I don't want a body-guard!" cried the athlete desperately. "We can't let you get hurt. You're worth too much to us." "Larry and I will take a chance." "Not for mine!" firmly declared the trainer.
"They needn't have but one of us to shoot at," and while Dan clung fast to the rear of the craft, Stover paddled with all the vigour at his command, which was considerable, considering his condition. In ten minutes they were out of rifle-range, and safe, and then the frontiersman sent the craft ashore, and he and Dan climbed to the river bank.
The Indian nodded again. "When was this?" As well as he could, with his limited knowledge of English, Big Foot told of the meeting with Captain Arguez, the Mexican private, and Ralph. "They all go into Bexar," he concluded. "Then Ralph is a prisoner of the enemy," said Amos Radbury. "But will they hold a mere boy like that?" snorted Poke Stover. "It seems to me thet ain't human nater, nohow."
He folded protecting hands over the threatened region and backed toward the prayer-rug, mumbling "Allah! Allah!" No matter whither he shifted, the eyes bored into him. "That's where you hit the gambler at Ogden," he heard Stover say it might have been from a great distance "but I aim for the bridge of the nose."
At this moment you are covered." "Yes?" mocked The Kid. "Come in, major!" cried Don Floristo. A door at one end of the room, which had been standing half ajar, now opened. Framed in the doorway was the bloated, fat figure of Major Stover. In his hand was a derringer. Its twin black muzzles were leveled at Kiel Wolf's heart.
Others of the tribe had arrived, until they numbered eighteen or twenty, the majority of whom were armed with guns, only one or two of the older warriors sticking to their bows and arrows. "I reckon they suspect we are waiting for help, and they mean to do something before it gits too late," observed Poke Stover. "Perhaps they'll give us another rush before they withdraw fer good.
"Make that man a close prisoner!" shouted Lieutenant Radbury to two of his followers. "Come on!" and he dashed away after the Mexican captain. Several, including Poke Stover and Dan, followed him, while others went after the fellow in the pine brake.
Stover wheeled upon him abruptly. "What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing." After a pause the foreman remarked, vaguely, "He's the intercollegit champeen of Yale." "Oh no, hardly that, or I would have heard of him." "Ain't he no champeen?" "Champion of the running broad smile and the half-mile talk perhaps." "Ain't he a foot-runner?" "Perhaps. I've never seen him run, but I have my doubts."
Commissioner Stover desires the appointment of a city officer who shall be a Supervisor of Recreations, a man or a woman whose entire time shall be devoted to discovering where recreation parks, dancing pavilions, music, and other forms of pleasure are needed, and how they may be made to do the most good. A neighborhood that thirsts for concerts ought to have them.
The newly-appointed Parks Commissioner, Charles B. Stover, looking over his office force, dismissed one secretary whose function seemed largely ornamental, and diverted his salary of four thousand dollars to recreation purposes for young people.
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