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Updated: June 14, 2025
"No, I'm quite sure he won't say a word about that," was the slow and thoughtful reply. "Gabe's as cunning as a fox, even when he's drunk." "He told you about it, though." "Ah, that's different. He knows that I understand all about it. But he won't say a word to anyone else. If he does, he won't get any more money. He's cute enough for that." "And you think he will come to me for more money?"
But I feel sorry for poor devils who don't happen to be as lucky or as brainy as I am. What do you say to a turn in the Park? We'll take a hansom, and kind of jog along. And we'll stop at the Casino and at Gabe's for a drink." "I have to get up so early," began Susan. "Oh, that's all right." He slowly winked at her. "You'll not have to bump the bumps for being late tomorrow if you treat me right."
Old Gabe's eyes bulged as he contemplated the size of his fortune. "All this, suh mine?" "All yours an' you better not miss that six o'clock train. Never can tell what'll happen, you know, Gabe. Pitkin will keep General Duval, I reckon?" Gabe grinned from ear to ear. "I fo'got to tell him so," he chuckled, "but he got both them hosses now. Mist' Curry, whut yo' reckon Sol'mun would say 'bout us?"
"Yes," he said, "Gabe's as funny as a jumpin' toothache." The young lady regarded him doubtfully. "I see," she said, after a moment, "you're joking again. I wish you'd tell me when you're going to do it, so Petunia and I would know for sure." "All right, I'll try not to forget to remember. But how did you guess I was jokin' this time?" "'Cause you just had to be. A jumping toothache isn't funny.
I never could see that marriage thing. Just good friends." Gabe had been coming to Chicago four times a year for six years. Six times four are twenty-four. And one is twenty-five. Gabe's last visit made the twenty-fifth. "Well, Effie," Gabe said when the evening's entertainment had reached the restaurant stage, "this is our twenty-fifth anniversary.
Ward and Bemis ran up, motioning the men back, and Ward cried, "Shall we help you save your stock and barn, or must we fight?" It was addressed to the crowd, but before they could answer, Dolan stumbled out of the barn through the smoke and flames crying, "Boys, boys, I can't find him." He saw the rescuing party and shouted, "Boys, Gabe's in there asleep and I can't find him."
'N' ef ye do hate me, whut hev you been lookin' 'cross the river fer, 'n' a-shakin' yer bonnet at me, 'n' paddlin' to Gabe's fer yer grist, when the mill on Dead Crick's been a-runnin', 'n' I know it? You've been banterin' me, hev ye?" the blood rose to his eyes again. "Ye mustn't fool with me, gal, by , ye mustn't. Whut hev you been goin' over thar fer?"
Old Gabe's knife stopped short in the heart of the stick he was whittling; the boy looked sharply up from the running meal into Crump's face and sat still. Well, he jes prayed to the Almighty as though he was a-talkin' to him face to face, 'n' then the woman put her hands on that box, 'n' the sweetes' sound anybody thar ever heerd come outen it.
"Jus' a hole in the groun'," he said, half to himself; "that's whut we're all comm' to! 'Pears like we mought help one 'nother to keep out'n hit, 'stid o' holpin' 'em in." Brown shadows were interlacing out in the mill-pond, where old Gabe's eyes were intent. A current of cool air had started down the creek to the river. A katydid began to chant. Twilight was coming, and the miller rose.
That was when Rome Stetson, the last but one of his name, and Jasper Lewallen, the last but one of his, put their guns down and fought with bare fists on a high ledge above old Gabe's mill one morning at daybreak. The man who was beaten was to leave the mountains; the other was to stay at home and have peace. Steve Marcum, a Stetson, heard the sworn terms and saw the fight.
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