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Updated: May 8, 2025
I expect," with a sharp look at the sheriff, "Swinnerton is feeling a bit shaky of late?" "Couldn't say," replied Wallace, slowly. "Ain't seen Oliver for a coon's age."
The blamed little porcupine offered 'em two bits more than we're payin' an' grabbed every one of 'em. The Old Man has wired Denver for a hundred more muckers. Swinnerton can't keep takin' men on all year. He's got more now than he knows what to do with. I guess this gang 'll come on through. As soon as they come, Tommy, I'll have that big dam growin' faster'n you ever saw a dam grow before."
One, John Swinnerton by name, who appears to have been a man of eminence, upheld it, if we have rightly understood his terms of art, to be a case of apoplexy.
There are a hundred ways in which Swinnerton and the bigger men in with him can slip their knife into us every day of the week. And they are not missing very many bets, either. Oh, Gray's all right; he's square enough and willing enough to stand by his word. But he can't do everything. It takes time to get matters up to him, and it takes time for him to adjust them.
"Detour nothin'. I'm goin' right straight through 'em. It'll take time, all right. But in the end we'll save. I'll cut through 'em in four days or four an' a half." "And then it's Dam Number One?" Truxton swore softly. "If I can get the men, it is! Swinnerton stole my last gang seventy-five of 'em.
And right now he's in San Francisco attending a railroad conference, and he'll be there fifteen days, I suppose. What sort of service do you suppose we get in the mean time? You get that idea out of your head that Swinnerton isn't doing anything actively to retard us. He's doing everything he can think of, and I told you at the jump that the man has brains."
"And Oliver Swinnerton made it his business to show the management of the railroad that the thing was impossible, that it was a mad fool's dream, that when the first day of October came there would be nothing accomplished because there never could be anything accomplished. He scored his point, and then he played his trump card.
"But " began Swinnerton, only to be cut short with: "There are no buts about it!" He stooped, seized the bit of one of Swinnerton's horses, and jerked it about into the road. "Get out!" "I tell you," yelled Swinnerton, "Conniston or no Conniston, you can't bluff me. Do you hear?" Conniston made no reply as he jerked the horses farther around.
Close to its threshold, so that one who was issuing forth or entering must needs step upon it or over it, lay a small flat stone, deeply imbedded in the ground, and partly covered with grass, inscribed with the name of "Dr. John Swinnerton, Physician."
Swinnerton had originally elevated it, in front of his shop in the main street, and to retire to his private dwelling, situated in a by-lane and on the edge of a burial-ground. This house, as well as the Brazen Serpent, some old medical books, and a drawer full of manuscripts, had come to him by the legacy of Dr. Swinnerton.
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