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Updated: June 17, 2025
Each hunt was determined to take the shine out of the other. 'Twang, twang, twang! 'Tweet, tweet, tweet! went his lordship's and Frostyface's horns, as they came bounding over the gorse to the spot, with the eager pack rushing at their horses' heels.
"Hiram," she said, "you're going to lend it to Tweet, and he's going out in the auto stage to-night." "I know it," said Hiram. "I got to help him. He's been a pretty good friend to me, Jo, and and I just like him. Why, if it hadn't been for him I'd never met you." Jo colored and looked away. "You big, simple-hearted boy!" she cried. "Do you know what he is going to do?" "No he won't talk."
The female, however, was upon the alert; and seeing these draw near, she raised her head with a loud "tweet!" which attracted the attention of her companions. In a moment their spread tails closed and came to the ground, their wings were shut up, and their long necks stretched into the air.
Then again the door was opened, and a boy from the post office handed Tweet a special-delivery letter. Tremblingly he tore the envelope and removed a yellow telegram. Tears sprang to his eyes as he read aloud: "Have to-day deposited to credit of your checking account in Bluemount National Bank, Los Angeles, one hundred thousand dollars. Check against it at pleasure.
Jo's skinners had come running back, and, with Tweet and Huber, looked on expectantly, sensing that a crisis between the two big huskies was imminent. Then came the voice of Jerkline Jo. "Hiram," she said, "don't be hasty." Jerkline Jo had seen many a fight between big men of the outdoor life. It was no new experience, and there was not a quaver in her tones.
Tweet gallantly asked to accompany Jo to her cabin, and both were laughing at the absurdity of a girl like Jerkline Jo needing an escort, when Hiram Hooker hurried up to them. "Well, I c'n see who's cut out," said Tweet, assuming a mournful expression. "So, if you don't mind, Jo, I'll get over to the hotel and keep after those two suckers.
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.
When you approach a burrow the Squirels one, or more, usially Set erect on these Mounds and make a kind of Shrill whistleing nois, Something like tweet, tweet, tweet &c. they do not live on grass as those of the Missouri but on roots. one which I examoned had in his mouth two Small bulbs of a Species of grass, which resembles very much what is Sometimes Called the Grass Nut. the intestins of these little animals are remarkably large for it's Size; fur Short and very fine. the grass in their village is not Cut down as in these of the plains of the Missouri.
Hiram Hooker heard no more, for blindly he was stumbling out, crushed, heartbroken. Hiram Hooker suddenly had decided to go to southern California with Mr. Orr Tweet, and the sooner they could get away the better he would like it. He realized now that Lucy Dalles was not the adventure girl who had beckoned in his dreams.
"Tweet?" And Marian replied: "I am devoted to Dorothy, of course, but I have never admired her fashion of making advances to every man she meets. Yes, she does." "Nay, 'twas only her money that lured me, to do her justice. It appeared so very sensible to marry an heiress.... But how can any man be sensible so long as he is haunted by the memory of your eyes?
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