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Updated: September 8, 2025
If I give you a guard it is as a precaution, to make sure that no rash peon makes the mistake of injuring you as an enemy." "We understand," Threewit answered. "But I'll just tell you one thing, major. Our friends know where we are, and Uncle Sam has a long arm. It will reach easily to Noche Buena." "So, señor? Perhaps. Maybe. Who knows? Accidents happen regrettable ones.
If it came to a pinch the turning of a saddle might spoil everything, and so far as he could the range-rider was forestalling any accidents that might be due to carelessness. "How long am I to wait for you?" asked Threewit. "We'd ought to be back inside of an hour and a half if luck's with us. But we may be delayed by some one hanging around.
"He didn't bother with us. It was the cattle he wanted. They've driven them across the line. At least, I reckon so." Threewit woke up instantly. "That's different. Unload your story, Yeager." The extra told it in six sentences. "Of course you didn't know any of the holdups. They were masked, you say?" "Yep." Steve's cool, steady eyes held those of the director.
"You've heard it." "I've heard other things, too. You're taking boxing lessons. You're going to need them, my friend." "The sooner the quicker," answered Steve evenly. "You'll cut that out, both of you," ordered Threewit curtly. "I'll fire you both if you don't behave." "I'm no school-kid, Threewit. I play my own hand. Sabe?" Harrison turned his cold eyes on the range-rider.
After leaving Holcomb, Yeager walked down to the river-bed, followed the bank for a couple of hundred yards, and crept forward on all fours through the alfalfa pasture to the barb-wire fence that paralleled the road at some distance. He crawled beneath the lowest wire and moved through the mesquite to a point from which he could see the building where Farrar and Threewit were held prisoners.
"Don't get fresh, young fella, or you'll do more than see one," snarled the heavy. "Want to beat me up, Chad?" asked Farrar with innocent impudence. "I weigh one hundred and thirty-one pounds when I'm hog fat. How much do you weigh?" "Cut it out, Frank," ordered Threewit. "I've had about enough of this jangling. If it isn't stopped, some one's going to lose a job. We're here to take pictures.
"You're talking murder, which is absurd," answered Threewit. "We've done no harm to you or General Pasquale. We came here by mistake. He'll let us go, of course." "You sent Yeager down here to spy about those cattle you lost. Now you've come down here buttin' in to see for yourself. I don't expect Pasquale is going to stand for any such thing," broke in Harrison.
He is a fool. I do not sleep. No, I I " His head drooped on his chest. Steve took the rifle that fell from his relaxed hand. Instantly the American was tapping gently on the door. "Threewit Farrar!" he called softly. "This is Steve." There was the sound of quick footsteps. A voice within answered in a whisper. "Yes, Steve. This is Frank."
But it kinder seemed to me it would be better if you went as my wife. Then I could take care of you." "Go with you now? What do you mean, Chad?" "It's this fellow Yeager. He's shot himself, and he wants to see you before he dies." From his pocket he took the note Steve had written to Threewit and handed it to Ruth.
The boots lying half under the bed were white with the dust of travel, but this was nothing unusual. "You can have my advice gratis if you want it." Harrison addressed himself pointedly to Threewit. "Send back to old man Yarnell's and you'll find the cattle straying in about day after to-morrow." "But, if rustlers took them " The big man laughed unpleasantly. "Forget it, Mr. Threewit.
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