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Updated: June 16, 2025
He spoke of Swen Brodie and old Loony Honeycutt and Gus Ingle all in one breath, and King knew that Gus Ingle was sixty years dead; he dwelt hectically on the "luck of the unlucky Seven." And when, far on in the night, he at length grew silent and King went to peer into his face by the light of his camp-fire, Andy Parker was dead. Mark King made the grave in the dawn.
"I got the big stiff on the run!" mumbled the old man. "He cain't come an' bulldoze me. Not me, he cain't. No, nor if Swen Brodie cain't git the best of me, no other man can," he added meaningly, glaring at King. "There's that box on the table," said King. "Maybe you'll want to put it away before he makes you another visit."
Other parts were stacked on a table. "Know anything about one of these gadgets?" Stan asked Swen. "Gadget?" Swen repeated in a British accent. "Yank word for machine," Stan explained. "No, I have never seen one before," Swen replied. Herr Domber stood around for a little while, then made off. Stan grinned at Swen. He had decided to work upon the kid. There might be a chance to do something.
Of these four one now held his own counsel, his attitude alert, his hands in his pockets, his head turning swiftly, so that his eyes were now on one speaker, now on another. Across the brief distance King could see the puffs of smoke from the pipe in his teeth. The man wore a red handkerchief knotted about his throat; its colour was as bright as fresh-spilled blood. Swen Brodie.
Then they left hers lingeringly; Brodie was stamping impatiently, calling to him. "Take her!" snapped Jarrold. "Hell take both of you." The laughter and challenge went out of Swen Brodie's bloodshot eyes; a new red surged all of a sudden into them. He turned and came slowly about the fire, his arms still uplifted, the crooking fingers toward Gloria.
She shivered and went to her bed and sat down, her hands tight clasped, a look of trouble in her eyes. Gratton and Swen Brodie together "I don't understand." She said it to herself over and over. "I can't understand!" She sprang up and left the room, going in feverish haste back to the front part of the building. The man who had given Gratton the register followed her with his speculative eyes.
And I'll go bond he's giving Honeycutt the best, most nourishing meals that have come his way since his mother suckled him Swen Brodie bound on keeping him alive until he gets what he's after. When he'd kick old Honeycutt in the side and leave him to die like a dog with a broken back." "Well," demanded Gaynor, "what's to be done?
"You may talk freely to Swen," Domber said. "He is a tested party man, but he does not like killing, so he is a mechanic. I have to watch him to keep the generals from stealing him and sending him off to Russia to fight." Domber laughed, but Stan saw fear come into the boy's eyes. "Anyone else speak English in the shop?" he asked. "I might want another man." "No others," Domber said.
The sun was rising when, he made his way to the top of the ridge and came to stand where he had seen Parker and Swen Brodie side by side. He clambered on until he came to the very crest over which Swen Brodie had disappeared. Just where had Brodie gone? He wondered. The answer came before the question could have been put into words.
The last one of the Seven got it. Look how it happens with old man Loony Honeycutt, clucking and chuckling and stepping up and down in his shadow all the time; gone nuts from just smelling of it! Look what happens to me, all stove up here." He paused and then spat out venomously: "Oh, it'll get Swen Brodie and it'll get you, too, Mark King. You'll see." "Another drink before I go?" demanded King.
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