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"I can't say as to that," replied Pinkey, judicially, "but she meant you were a 'perfect lady'." "It's more than I can say of her!" Wallie retorted, reddening. Pinkey merely grinned and shrugged a shoulder. He arose a moment later as if the conversation and company alike bored him. "Well I'm goin' to pack my war-bag and ramble. Why don't you come West and git civilized?
"Hike over and get the haughty new war-bag, and we'll hit the sod. I've got to be in camp by dinner-time." A mile out Pink looked down at his festal garments and smiled. "I expect I'll be pickings for your Happy Family when they see me in these war-togs," he remarked. Chip turned and regarded him meditatively for a minute.
I want you to take charge. I've got a lot to do at the ranch." "Ain't got my war-bag," objected Billy. "Take my stuff. I'll send yours on when Parker goes." "All right." "Well, so long." "So long, Senor." They moved. The erratic Arizona breezes twisted the dust of their going. Senor Johnson watched them dwindle. With them seemed to go the joy in the old life.
The Old Man pulled up at the bunk-house, the stranger sprang out over the wheel with the agility which bespoke youthful muscles, and the Old Man introduced him with a quirk of the lips: "This is Mr. Mig-u-ell Rapponi, boys a peeler straight from the Golden Gate. Throw out your war-bag and make yourself to home, Mig-u-ell; some of the boys'll show you where to bed down."
The Stetson was lifted from his head and once more it seemed a long time that he stood looking at the little tent with the soft brim of his Stetson crushed tightly in his hand. Evidently, for fear of waking her, the man did not go to the spring, but retraced his steps and Alice saw him stoop and withdraw something from his war-bag.
Like lava from a crater they poured over the slope above me; and above them, seeming prodigiously big against the weird sky, went the sheepman with his staff in his hand and a war-bag over his arm, while at his heels a wise collie followed. It was a picture done by chance very much as Millet could have done it. And somehow Joe's mot couldn't stand before that picture.
"Why," she said, looking at him and noting his grave earnestness, so strikingly in contrast to his wild frolicksomeness at Calamity that day. "Why, I don't know about that. Vickers stayed at the ranchhouse, and I suppose you will stay here too." "All right, ma'am; I'll be takin' my war-bag in." He was evidently feeling a slight embarrassment, and would have been glad to retreat.
Bud was not overstocked with clothes; much traveling had formed the habit of buying as he needed for immediate use. With Lovin Child held firmly under one arm, where he would be sure of him, he emptied his "war-bag" on the bunk and hunted out another shirt Lovin Child got a bath, that time, because of the ashes he had managed to gather on his feet and his hands and his head.
In his fingers he clutched a pungent, gray weed. Late that night Weary, his belongings stuffed hurriedly into the suit-case he called his "war-bag," started home; so impatient he had a childish desire to ride upon the engine so that he might arrive the sooner, and failing that he spent much of his time lurching between smoking car and tourist sleeper, unable to sit quietly in any place for longer than ten minutes or so.
"Ma, I jest ask you what you would do now, if you was settin' peaceful in the bunk-house pawin' over your war-bag, lookin' for a clean shirt, and all of a sudden whing! along comes a warsh-basin and takes you right over the ear. Wouldn't you feel like killin' somebody?" "Lookin' for a clean shirt!" whispered Andy to Pete. "Did you git that?" Bill "got" it and flushed amazingly.
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