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Updated: June 21, 2025
The ladies swarmed around that person, quoted his sayings delightedly, and declared a million times in Wallie's hearing that "he was a character!" And the worst of it was that Helene Spenceley did not seem sufficiently aware of Wallie's existence even to laugh at him.
"Do we go out for a sail?" asked Ed, attempting to turn on the gasoline. "Oh, no indeed!" Cora answered quickly. "Not a box is unpacked in our place yet, and perhaps, if you boys are all to rights, you wouldn't mind giving us a hand." "Oh, of course we're all to rights," replied Jack. "I had a bolt of mosquito netting for my blanket last night and Wallie's bathrobe for my pillow."
Pinkey's forehead was furrowed like a corrugated roof with the mental effort as he figured in the dust with a pointed stick while Wallie's face wore a look of absorption as he watched the progress, although he was already as familiar with it as with his multiplication tables. "Ten head of dudes at $100 a month is a $1,000," said Pinkey. "And twelve months in the year times a $1,000 is $12,000.
Wallie's knowledge of Wyoming was gathered chiefly from an atlas he had borrowed from Mr. Cone. The atlas stated briefly that it contained 97,890 square miles, mostly arid, and a population of 92,531. It gave the impression that the editors themselves were hazy on Wyoming, which very likely was the truth, since it had been published in Mr. Cone's childhood when the state was a territory.
There was not much that Canby could do in the present circumstances to put difficulties in Wallie's way, but the next day he found it convenient to turn a trainload of long-horn Texas cattle loose on the adjacent range, and posted warnings to the effect that they were dangerous to pedestrians, and persons going among them on foot did so at their own risk.
"Yes, indeed," Pinkey went on, complacently, feeling a glow of satisfaction at Wallie's lengthened countenance; "she does it every Christmas. She's kind to the pore and sufferin', but it don't mean nothin' more than a dollar she'd drop in a hat somebody was passin'." Noting the deep gloom which immediately settled upon Wallie, Pinkey could think of the prairie-dogs with more equanimity.
There was a dirt roof on the cabin from which clods of earth fell rather frequently and bounced on Wallie's head or dropped in the food, or on his bed to startle him when sleeping. The floor contained knotholes through which the field mice and chipmunks came up to share his provisions, and the door, being a trifle larger than the frame, could not be closed entirely.
Wallie's thoughts were bitter as he remembered the many injuries he had suffered at Canby's hands. It was a subject upon which he dared not trust himself to talk it stirred him too much, although he had long ago decided that since he was powerless to retaliate there was nothing to do but take his medicine.
They had got Dick Livingstone and he had gone on in. Mrs. Sayre was afraid it had been one of Wallie's cars. She had begged Wallie to tell Jim to be careful in it. It had too much speed. The telephone rang and Leslie took the receiver and pushed Elizabeth gently aside. He listened for a moment. "Very well," he said.
Any compunctions of conscience he might have had for putting Rufus through such mental anguish vanished. Leaning over the edge of the well, he called down cheerily: "How you making it?" Wallie's voice sounded like the voice of an angel to the prisoner. Relief and joy beyond description filled him. Hoarse as a bullfrog, he quavered: "In Mercy's name let me out of here, Macpherson!"
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