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Updated: June 11, 2025
Tweet's shiny new car plunked down into the road, and that gentleman continued on toward the trucks and the machine of Ragtown's first merchant, Mr. Huber. Hiram Hooker was riding with Jerkline Jo, and the two had been deep in their studies when the appearance of the various automobiles had distracted their attention.
Tweet's thighs; the hubs were larger than his waist; the tires were ten inches in width; the entire running-gear looked as if a small forest of sturdy hardwood had been felled for its construction. "It is built to go," the girl assured him. "Stutterin' Demosthenes! I didn't think there were enough horses in the world to move the thing!
It was like the slap of a cold towel when Tweet's face suddenly displaced Lucy's in the haze. Up there in the lounging room Tweet had been waiting for him four hours! Tweet was doubtless hungry he, Hiram, had been to a feast of love! He felt like sneaking away to another lodging house till Tweet had disappeared. But he did not.
But she had not the heart to refuse Tweet's offer, and she wanted her skinners to rest for the remainder of the night, in view of the hard work that lay before them. So she accepted, and Mr. Tweet took his post. He was there like the boy on the burning deck when they came with the teams early next morning, walking about briskly to keep warm through the cold desert dawn, whistling merrily.
She was kind to me up there in Frisco when I'd just come out of the woods. Her heart's warm, and that's what counts." Tweet's steel-blue eyes twinkled. "Course nobody could blame her for makin' you spend four dollars an hour for an automobile," he said. "It was a crime not to roll you for your jack in those days, Hooker. I forgave her for that a long time ago."
Well," he switched abruptly, "what you been thinkin' about our little deal?" "Nothing," Hiram retorted resentfully. They had been slowly walking down the street. Tweet stopped short and looked at him. "That means what? That you don't care to consider it further?" It had meant just that when Hiram said it. There was now in Tweet's question a tone of finality.
Without another word Tweet left him standing there, went back and sat down, and hid his face behind his paper. Hiram waited a minute, then slowly sank to the edge of his chair. After a little he asked pleadingly: "Ain't they all right?" Tweet's paper trembled. A bit of this, then Tweet lowered it and presented a countenance which seemed never to have known a smile.
Six thousan' dollars and interest on deferred payments." "Can you meet it?" "I couldn't if it was due now," was Tweet's reply. "Well, I'll see that you meet that payment," Jo said. "That will give you three months more leeway five months, counting from now and by that time things should begin to look up once more." Tweet heaved a great sigh of relief.
Again her skin grew faintly pink. "Good business! Go to it! Every little bit helps. Well, congratulations, Lucy. So long! C'm on, Hiram." "Thanks." Lucy laughed, and went into her little room. Hiram sighed boyishly, upset the toothpick holder at his elbow, and fled in Mr. Tweet's wake. "Pretty nifty little kid," Tweet remarked, as Hiram joined him. "You know her wh-what's her name?"
Hiram now climbed to the top of Jo's immense load of baled alfalfa, and, looking back, made reports to her. "They're all together now," he said, "and having quite an argument. Tweet's swinging his arms about as if he wanted to fight. "Now he's getting into his car. He and the storekeeper are turning in ahead of the trucks. Here they all come, Tweet in the lead!"
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