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Updated: May 7, 2025
Here and there a yucca baccata thrusts out its bayonets from the ground, as if in warning, and a score or more of flowers give variety of color to the greens of the trees, in due season. Outlook from Yavapai Point.
"After all, Phil," said Patches, with bitter sarcasm, "poor Yavapai Joe is not so much different from hundreds of men that I know. By their standards he should be envied."
When his companion made no comment, the Dean said reflectively, as Buck and Prince climbed slowly up the grade to the summit of the Divide, "I'll tell you, son, I've seen a good many changes in this country. I can remember when there wasn't a fence in all Yavapai County hardly in the Territory.
"Well, I'll tell you," said Billy, proud of his superior knowledge. "That there's Tailholt Mountain." "Indeed!" "Yes, and Nick Cambert and Yavapai Joe lives over there. Do you know about them?" The tall man shook his head. "No, I don't believe that I do." Little Billy lowered his voice to a mysterious whisper. "Well, I'll tell you. Only you mus'n't ever say anything 'bout it out loud.
"That's where you're right, my tall friend," chirped the little scientist; "and as my work is almost finished I do not mean to let anything detain me from getting my book in the hands of the printers." "Hear that, Mr. Stanwix; he says we're going to get off easy, and you might as well wish us good day right now?" exclaimed Eugene, nodding to the Yavapai sheriff, whom he appeared to know.
Even as Patches spoke, he saw something just beyond the approaching man that made him start as if to rise to his feet. It was the unmistakable face of Yavapai Joe, who, from behind an oak bush, was watching the professor. Patches, glancing at Kitty, saw that she had not noticed.
Not that I would have minded that so much, either, after the first week," he added in his droll way, "but considering all the circumstances it would have been rather a poor sort of finish." "And what about Yavapai Joe?" asked Phil. Patches smiled. "Where is Joe? What's he been doing all day?" The Dean answered. "He's just been moseyin' around.
"It's Nick Cambert and that poor, lost dog of a Yavapai Joe," Phil answered. "The Tailholt Mountain outfit," murmured Patches, watching the riders on the ridge with quickened interest. "Do you know, Phil, I believe I have seen those fellows before." "You have!" exclaimed Phil. "Where? When?" "I don't know how to tell you where," Patches replied, "but it was the day I rode the drift fence.
Duncan," shouted Henry from the direction of the Indians, a few moments later, "come and see what these creatures are doing!" I left the ambulance and joined the group of soldiers who stood in a circle about an inner circle of seated Indians. Each Yavapai had selected a rat from the collection in his belt, and had laid it on the coals without dressing it or in any way disturbing its anatomy.
An adobe wall, some seven feet high, surrounded the corral, and beneath the canvas awning on the southern side certain offenders against the peace and dignity of Yavapai County had been assembled under the eye of tobacco-chewing deputies. There were the Sanchez half-brothers, 'Patchie and José, both shackled. There was Muñoz, similarly decked.
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