"Find that all out to-day in San Francisco?" "No." "Oh, it was the Brundage clew that took you south?" "Yep. Left Louie on the job at the hotel while I was away. To-day, I went after Brundage's automobile. Found he'd kept one in a garage on Jackson Street." "It's gone, of course and no trace," Barbara murmured. "Gone since the day of the bank theft," Worth nodded. "He and the money went in it."

"A fellow in New York," Jim continued with studied carelessness "said he used to live down here." "He LIVED down here?" she repeated blankly. "Yep come now, loosen up and tell us about the kid." "There ain't nuthin' ter tell he's dead," she cried pathetically. "He said you deserted the child and left him to starve." "He said that?" she growled. "Yep." He was silent again and watched her keenly.

"Look at that big feller with the wide hat that has the leather band round it. There's a real man for ye." "Yep," nodded Eben, leaning on his crooked cane and looking the party over. "He's a man, the hull of him, but even at that I don't cal'late he quite comes up to our Frank. What do you think, deacon?" "Boys," said Elnathan, "I ain't never yit seen the man that comes up to our Frank.

We'd better stay there to-night, then start for the lumber camp early to-morrow morning. It's a long hike, but I know you'd rather walk than ride. Once we've had some supper, I can tell you what little I know of this part of the country. Have you ever been up here before?" "Yep; 'bout five year ago, mebbe. I hunt up here a long winter. I know him."

Troubled, he said nothing, but gave a start as Curly, without introduction, remarked, as though reading his thoughts: "Cap, I seen it, too." "His footprint at the bank?" "Yep. He's shore been here afore." Neither man said more, but both grew grave, and both looked unconsciously to their weapons.

The dream of my revenge had been so strong in my brain that still I could feel the butcher-knife in my hand ... and I looked into the empty palm to verify the sensation, still there, of clasping the handle. " that you, Johnnie?" called my uncle. "Yep!" "What's the matter? can't you sleep?" "No! got up to take a drink of water."

Our teacher's sick so there isn't any session at the district school to-morrow." "Oh, Curly! Play hooky?" gasped Ruth, clasping her hands. "Yep. Only you girls haven't any pluck." "If I played hooky would you let me go fishing with you to-morrow?" asked Ruth, her eyes dancing. "You haven't the sand," scoffed Curly. "But can I go if I dare run away?" urged Ruth.

Gimme the grip and the password and I'll believe you." "That ain't a Masonic symbol," said he. "I'm a dentist a bony fido dentist, with forceps and a little furnace and a gas-bag and a waitin'-rooms". He swelled up and bit a hang-nail off of his cigar. "Yep! A regular toothwright." Naturally I was surprised, not to say awed. "Have you got much of a practice?" I made bold to ask.

He's gone fer the doctor, so I'm keepin' watch." The parson remained very quiet, and did not speak for some time. He still felt confused, and his shoulder was giving him great pain. He realized, however, how much he owed to Dan. What if he had been alone when the accident occurred? "Did you come back for Stephen?" he at length questioned. "Yep." "And you were not hurt? Are you sure?"

"Brought it up this mo'nin' myself." "How much?" "Twelve quarts." "Any dynamite in camp?" "Yes. A dozen sticks, maybe." "And three gallons of nitro, you say." "Yep." "That's enough to do the job," Sanders said, as though talking aloud to himself. "Yep. Tha's what we usually use." "I'm speaking of another job. Let's get down from here. We might be seen."