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Updated: June 26, 2025
And when Cal landed safely, and Whitey waved at them all from a distance, as he rode away, he felt, as I think you will feel, that it was no wonder Western men had the reputation of being big-hearted, when a man like Cal Smith would take all that trouble for a boy he never had seen before.
Whitey was sleeping soundly and dreamlessly, when he was aroused by a grip on his arm. It was Injun in his pink pajamas. "Some one come," he said. "Mebbe it's Bill and the others," Whitey ventured. "Not Bill only one man," Injun replied.
Any other of the little people with the exception of his cousin, Billy Mink, would have been frightened half to death. But Shadow was simply angry. He was angry that any one should try to catch him. He was still more angry because his hunt for Jumper the Hare was interfered with. You see, he had just found Jumper's trail when Whitey swooped at him.
It was equally obvious then that Whitey Mack would know the Gray Seal as Larry the Bat. Did he also know him as Jimmie Dale? Yes, or no? It was a vital question. His life hung on it. That keen, facile brain, numbed for the moment, was beginning to work with lightning speed.
"I want to take a good ole look at him myself," Sam said. After supplying Whitey with another bucket of water, they returned to the carriage-house and seated themselves thoughtfully. In truth, they were something a shade more than thoughtful; the adventure to which they had committed themselves was beginning to be a little overpowering.
As it chanced the deacon was in town that day, and at the store just across the street from the telegraph office. This the agent knew by old Whitey, who was standing meekly at the hitching-post, covered with his blanket, a faded woolen bedspread, which years before Aunt Betsy had spun and woven herself. "A letter for me!" Uncle Ephraim said, when the message was put into his hands.
Whitey asked a hundred questions meanwhile, none of which Slim answered. He seemed entirely absorbed in his own troubles, and when he was free, he carefully felt himself all over. "Dis is fine foh mah misery, fine!" he said bitterly. As far as Whitey had ever been able to learn, a "misery" was a sort of rheumatism.
Lannigan and Whitey Mack would be together the odds would be two to one against him and he had no quarrel with Lannigan somehow he must let Lannigan out of it. The other side of the street was less crowded. He crossed over, and, still with the shuffling tread that dozens around him knew as the characteristic gait of Larry the Bat, but covering the ground with amazing celerity, he hurried along.
Shall I not say that these bands of desperadoes still found among the "poor whitey, dirt-eater" class are the outcroppings of the bad blood sent from England in convict-ships? Ought an old country to sow the fertile soil of a colony with such noxious seed? Before Ralph was able to move, he heard the hoofs of another horse striking upon the hard ground in an easy pace. The rider was Dr. Small.
The coming of a man didn't seem important to Whitey, but he knew Injun must have had something on his mind, or he wouldn't have waked him, and he waited for his friend to speak more of the words of which he was so sparing. The next speech was not long. "Look," said Injun, and he went to the window. Whitey went and looked.
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