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Updated: May 21, 2025
As he entered, Stratton was conscious of the intent scrutiny of all five, and an easy, careless smile curved his lips. "Reckon this is the bunk-house, all right," he drawled. "The lady told me it was down this way. My name's Bob Green Buck for short. I've just been hired to show you guys how to punch cows proper." There was a barely perceptible silence, broken by one of the men at the table.
"They've gone, as I thought," snapped Stratton. "The two women are alone. But that isn't the worst." A sudden spasm of uncontrolled fury rose in his throat and choked him momentarily. "There's some one hidden in the loft over the harness-room," he managed to finish hoarsely. Bud stared at him in dismay. "Who the devil " "I don't know.
This made poor Stratton an object of no little curiosity, and he was pestered with all sorts of questions; on one occasion an old dowager said to him: "Are you really the father of General Tom Thumb?" "Wa'al," replied Stratton, "I have to support him!"
Josie and Connie could never be mistaken for anything but sisters, in spite of the eleven years between them. Only Josie was pretty and plastic and passionless, and Connie was not pretty nor plastic nor passionless. They were the contrast one sees so often in children kin-born of the summer and autumn of life. "Don't tell me!" said Mrs. Stratton. "I know all about that."
What a huge inaccessible lumber-room of thought and experience we amounted to, I thought; how much we are, how little we transmit. Each one of us was but a variation, an experiment upon the Stratton theme. All that I had now under my hands was but the merest hints and vestiges, moving and surprising indeed, but casual and fragmentary, of those obliterated repetitions.
Grenvile," adds in a postscript to her letter: "If you please to bestowe a plaine black Gownd of any cheape stufe on me I will thank you, and some black shoes." She died about four years after her husband fell at Lansdown. These two lie buried at Kilkhampton, but Payne, the loyal servant, is somewhere within the noble church of Stratton; there is no monument to say where.
That was the picture into which Thorne had suddenly ridden, his face stamped with an excitement in marked contrast to his usual phlegmatic calm. In his mind's eye Stratton could see him clutch Tex Lynch and draw him hastily to one side, could imagine vividly the low-voiced conversation that followed, the hurried saddling of a fresh horse, and the swift departure of the two northward to what?
Why wonderful is no name for it," declared Stratton, lighting a cigar at one of the piano candles. "She is extraordinary." "I tell Nellie, sometimes, that I shall get jealous of her, Harry gets quite excited over her virtues, and thinks she has no faults, while poor I am continually offending the consistencies."
An instant later they were face to face. For a second the fat man glanced at him indifferently with that same pouting droop to the small lips which Stratton knew he never could forget. Then, like a flash, the round eyes widened and filled with horror, the jaw dropped, the fat face turned to a pale, sickly green.
Tried to make me believe my turn'll come next." Stratton shrugged his shoulders. "I reckon there isn't much chance of that. They're not keen to get the sheriff down on their trail. Well, if he feels like that he wouldn't be much use here even if we could persuade him to stick."
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