Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 16, 2025
And all around him the bushes were hung with drying clothes. "Hello!" cried Tresler, as he slipped to the ground. "Holy smoke!" The scrubbing and banging had ceased, and the most curiously twisted face Tresler had ever seen glanced back over the man's bowed shoulder.
The night-riders filled their thoughts to the exclusion of all else, and Tresler learned the details of their recent exploits, and the opinion of each man on the outrages. Even Teddy Jinks, youthful and only "slushy" as he was, was listened to, so absorbed were these men in their cattle world. "It's my belief," that reedy youth said, with profound finality, "they're working fer a bust up.
Tresler was tired, stiff, and consumed by a sponge-like thirst, for he was unused to long hours in the saddle. And he had found a dreary monotony in riding over the endless prairie lands of the West. Now he found himself surrounded by an uncertain circle of wooden houses. None of them suggested luxury, but after the heaving rollers of grass-land they suggested companionship and life.
And Diane's voice whispered in his ear. "Not you, Jack!" she said eagerly. "Leave it to me; I I can save him Jake." "Jake?" "Yes." She was gone, and in an instant returned with the lighted kitchen lamp, which she held aloft as she rushed into the room. Tresler was taken utterly by surprise. The girl's movements were so sudden, so unexpected, and her words so strange.
Ther' ain't nuthin' like religion fer makin' things oneasy in your head. Joe allus had a strain o' religion in him." The Southerner gazed gloomily at the saddle on the fence, while he munched his tobacco in thoughtful silence. "I don't think Joe's got religion," said Tresler, with a smile. "He's certainly worried, and with reason. Jake's got his knife into him.
The mare was flung on her haunches, while Fyles, cursing bitterly, clung desperately to his saddle to retain his seat. But his aim was lost, and his shot narrowly missed his horse's head; and, before either he or Tresler had recovered himself, the red masked man had vanished into the darkness, heading for the perilous ascent of the valley side.
"That wouldn't suit Jake. No." Joe was silent for a moment. Tresler waited. At last the little man made a move and spat out his chew. "That's it," he said, slapping his thigh triumphantly "that's it, sure.
I chose you; Marbolt gave me the privilege of selection." "Wal, guess we'd best git goin'. Willow Bluff station's fair to decent, so we'll only need our blankets an' grub an' a tidy bunch of ammunition. Guess I'll go an' see Teddy fer the rations." He went off in a hurry. Tresler looked after him. It was good to be dealing with such a man after those others, Jake and the rancher.
"My name's Ranks gener'ly called 'Slum. Howdy." "Well, Mr. Ranks " "Gener'ly called 'Slum," interrupted the other. "Mr. Slum, then " Tresler smiled. "Slum!" The man's emphasis was marked. There was no cheating him of his due. "Slum" was his sobriquet by the courtesy of prairie custom. "Ranks" was purely a paternal heirloom and of no consequence at all.
His anger leapt, and, though he held himself tightly, it found expression in the biting emphasis of his reply. "When I'm one of the 'hands, yes," he said incisively. Jake stared. Then a curious sort of smile flitted across his features. "Hah!" he ejaculated. And Tresler went on with cold indifference. "And, in the meantime, I may as well say that the primary object of my visit is to see Mr.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking