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"Special delivery letter, maybe," ventured Dick. "Maybe," admitted Bud. "I I have a feeling that it's bad news," murmured Mrs. Merkel to Nell. "Maybe not," Bud's sister whispered. "It may be only a rush order for cattle to be shipped. "All that were fit have been shipped," her mother said. "I'm afraid I'm afraid "
The orchestra of the night seemed to bring its dirge to a close; a chill interlude of silence ensued. The moans died away into choking sobs, and Bonner's ears could hear nothing else. A sudden thought striking him, he rolled out of his bed and made his way to Bud's pile of blankets. But the solution was not there. The lad was sound asleep and no sound issued from his lips.
"With my own eyes I saw 'em knock th' miner off his hoss with their guns, an' then jump on him, an' run a knife through his heart, an' jerk off his gold-belt, an' " "You lie!" and the hard fist of Bud's sturdy right arm landed squarely on the chin of the man, with such force that he was knocked backward, senseless, into the arms of a man standing behind him.
She lost the step, purposely that she might have a little more time before they pass down the room toward Pollard and Broderick, hesitated, taking her time to catch it, laughed at his apology for the mistake, noted that her own laugh sounded free and natural, caught the step, and swirled away into the crowd, daring now to look up laughingly into Bud's face unmindful of the havoc she was working in his soul.
But he had a new story to tell his friends in the clubs of Tucson, Phoenix, Yuma, Los Angeles. And whenever he told it, Sudden Selmer would repeat what he called The Skyrider's Dream from the first verse to Mary V's last even unto Bud's improvisation. He would paint Johnny's bombardment of the choir practice until his audience could almost hear the thud of the rocks when they landed.
Most generally I collect half in advance, on a long trip like this." Foster's eyes opened, but he reached obediently inside his coat. Mert growled inaudible comments upon Bud's nerve. "Oh, we can't kick, Mert," Foster smoothed him down diplomatically. "He's delivered the goods, so far. And he certainly does know how to put a car over the road. He don't know us, remember!"
"Oh, I guess it would have been wonderful with any other feller for a partner than Bud Tristram," Jeff responded promptly. "As an enterprise, why, I guess it's my thought. As a success, it's Bud's genius for setting cattle prospering. Say, you can't handle a wide proposition right by reckoning up figures and fixing deeds of sale and partnership. I allow you need to do some thinking that way.
Again the choirmaster's voice, patient and wearied, began the refrain. Instinctively Bud's little chest swelled, and involuntarily his clear, high treble took the note and sustained it without break through the measures, and then triumphantly broke into the solo. The bishop's eyes shone. "Come," he said, rising and going towards the door, "come with me."
I'll be back 'bout supper-time, Eva. You take keer o' Rosalie. Make her sleep a while an' I guess you'd better dose her up a bit with quinine an' " "I guess I know what to give her, Anderson Crow," resented his wife. "Go 'long with you. You'd oughter been lookin' after them kidnapers three hours ago. I bet Bud's purty nigh wore out guardin' them.
Von Rittenheim, sitting before the fire with Wallenstein's Lager on his knee, but with eyes bent upon the flames that burst with tiny explosions from the logs, and with mind wandering far from thoughts of Schiller, von Rittenheim was waiting with what patience he could command for Bud's return. With the falling of the wind at dusk the rain ceased.
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