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Many's the time they'd dropped in at the ranch when antelope-stalking down the foot-hills. Nolan had prospered. He and Feeny, both, when last heard of were somewhere up among the mines. Burns was in Collins's Camp on Lance Creek. Toomey and Scully had got "cleaned out" and were firing on the Transcontinental. "Where?" demanded Geordie, his eyes dilating. "Mountain Division, both of 'em.
Toomey was only a pitiful inconsequential little coward, whose action was in keeping with her nature. She knew it to be true, yet she was stirred to her depths by the insult, and if anything more had been needed to keep her steadfast to her purpose, the incident would have accomplished it. Sensitive to the extent of morbidness it was impossible for her to ignore the occurrence.
With so very much at stake depending on Graham's remaining unrecognized, with old Fort Reynolds only six miles ahead, and Silver Shield only twenty-six farther, it would be foolish to become involved in a squabble. But Toomey had been nursing his wrath. Big Ben was not too fond of Cullin, and Geordie found that they were quite bent on making trouble at first opportunity.
Twice, Ben could have further sworn, he had heard Toomey say "sir," a word Toomey used to no one less than the division superintendent. Somewhat grudgingly and suspiciously, therefore, had Ben nodded greeting and looked the "young feller" over. He did not extend his hand.
Toomey paced the floor for a time, then sank into his usual place on the sofa. Mrs. Toomey permitted herself to observe sarcastically: "It's a wonder to me you don't get bed sores the amount of time you spend on the flat of your back." "What do you mean by that?" suspiciously. "Do you mean I'm lazy because I didn't take that job?"
Toomey could answer truthfully and she did, with convincing sincerity: "No, I don't!" "I knew it!" There was a joyous note in Kate's voice, and gratitude. "I was sure you were true-blue, and I know I'm going to love you!" Lifting the woman to her feet, with an arm about her shoulders, Kate kissed her impulsively.
Whenever there were races, the Toomeys went to the races, taking the precocious "Lloydy," in his velvet Fauntleroy suit and tasselled shoes, and taking "Baby," a shivering little terrier with wet, terrified eyes. Sometimes Mrs. Toomey came out to the kitchen in the morning, to curl her ostrich feathers over the gas stove, or join Mrs.
The breath he expended in "working up deals" which came to nothing when the critical point was reached would have floated a balloon. Toomey had no office, but conducted his affairs in winter from the chair by the radiator in the southwest corner of the Prouty House. In summer, he moved to the northeast corner of the veranda.
I told 'em, through him, if they wanted anything on this train they needn't ask me. I wasn't responsible." Graham and Toomey exchanged quick glances. A wretched end would it be to all their planning if Geordie should now be dragged off the cab as accessory to the assault on young Breifogle, his helpless charge and patient of the early morning hours.
"Disthroyed ut," sez Crook, an' he took us on, but not before Toomey that was in the Tyrone sez aloud, his voice somewhere in his stummick: "Fwhat in the name av misfortune does this parrit widout a tail mane by shtoppin' the road av his betthers?"
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