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Updated: June 11, 2025
“Charming!” said David. “Wear it, dear. Marcia, one thing more. Don’t wear any more things that don’t belong to you. Not a Dud. Promise me? Can you get along without it?” “Why, I guess so,” said Marcia laughing joyfully. “I’ll try to manage. But I haven’t any bonnet. Nothing but a pink sunbonnet.” “All right, wear that,” said David.
The early settlers could get a deer whenever they wanted one. Many were shot from the doors of their cabins. While Harshaw, Dud, and Bob were working Wolf Creek another heavy snow fell. A high wind swept the white blanket into deep drifts. All day the riders ploughed through these to rescue gaunt and hungry cattle. Night caught them far from the cabin where they had been staying.
Still the Indians ate, voraciously, wolfishly, as though they could never get enough. It was not a meal but an endurance contest. Occasionally some wag would push forward the pockmarked brave and demand of Dud that he baptize him again, and always the puncher made motions of going through the performance a second time. The joke never staled.
In 1643, according to the statement contained in his petition above referred to, Dud Dudley acted as military engineer in setting out the fortifications of Worcester and Stafford, and furnishing them with ordnance. After the taking of Lichfield, in which he had a share, he was made Colonel of Dragoons, and accompanied the Queen with his regiment to the royal head-quarters at Oxford.
Presently she asked her companion a question as to how Jake Houck came to be with the rangers. Dud understood that the subject was changed. The soldiers found beds wherever they could. Some rolled up in their blankets near the fires. Others burrowed into haystacks on the meadow. Before daybreak they expected to be on the march again.
The Ute ran away limping. "Anyhow, that guy's got a souvenir to remember me by. Compliments of Tom Reeves," grinned the owner of that name. "We've got to get back to the boys somehow. I reckon they're havin' quite a party on the ridge," Dud said. The sound of brisk firing came across the mesa to them.
Dud lost her poise; in her eyes he almost saw more than she meant; the sheer, flat blow of it levelled her for a breath to the plane of other and ordinary women. But even as he thought it, it was gone. She put out her hand; she smiled; she shook her finger at him.
Kitty Conover had innocently he understood that almost immediately and recovered his mental balance Kitty had innocently thrown a bomb at his feet. It did not matter that it was a dud. The result was the same. For a second, then, all the terror, all the astounding suspension of thought and action attending the arrival of a shell on the battlefield were his.
They had been chasing a jack-rabbit across the mesa for sport. Their broncos were now grazing close at hand. "Ever notice how a jack-rabbit jumps high when it's crowded?" Dud asked idly. Bob nodded. "Like a deer. Crowd one an' he gets to jumpin' high. 'D you see that jack turn a somersault just as I threw my rope the last time?" Dud's keen eyes ranged the landscape.
Dixie An oblong iron pot or box fitting into a field kitchen. Used for cooking anything and everything. Nobody seems to know why it is so called. Doggo Still. Quiet. East Indian derivation. Doing in Killing. Doss Sleep. Duck walk A slatted wooden walk in soft ground. Dud An unexploded shell. A dangerous thing to fool with.
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