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Updated: August 3, 2024
They had said that the officers were already busy, so haste was a crying thing. She sped down the dark streets towards the house of Cherry Malotte, but found no light nor answer to her knock. She was distracted now, and knew not where to seek next among the thousand spots which might hide the man she wanted. What chance had she against the posse sweeping the town from end to end?
The invaders ransacked thoroughly, while a dozen times the hearts of Cherry Malotte and her two companions stopped, then lunged onward, as McNamara or Voorhees approached, then passed the stove. At last Voorhees lifted the lid and peered into its dark interior.
Roy, in no mood for the exuberance of his companions, parted from them, but had not gone far before he met Cherry Malotte. His head was low and he did not see her till she spoke. "Well, boy, so it's over at last!" Her words chimed so perfectly with his thoughts that he replied: "Yes, it's all over, little girl." "You don't need my congratulations you know me too well for that.
It was Cherry Malotte; and, from her heaving breast and the flying colors in her cheeks, the men saw she had been running. She did not give them time to question, but closed and locked the door while the words came tumbling from her: "They're on to you, boys you'd better duck out quick. They're on their way up here now." "What!" "Who?" "Quick! I heard McNamara and Voorhees, the marshal, talking.
I don't know what the plot is, for I can't believe the old Judge is crooked the girl wouldn't let him." "Girl?" Cherry Malotte leaned forward where the light shone on the young man's worried face. "The girl? What girl? Who is she?" Her voice had lost its lazy caress, her lips had thinned. Never was a woman's face more eloquent, mused Glenister as he noted her.
"I just sort of bow to him" he gave an imitation of a slight, indifferent headshake "that way!" "I see," commented their hostess, quizzically; then recalling herself, she continued: "I should have made myself known before; I am Miss Malotte." "Ch " began the crook, then shut his lips abruptly, darting a shrewd glance at the girl.
She flushed, but continued, "It simply occurred to me that if you aren't strong enough to handle your own throat, you're not strong enough to beat a man who has mastered his." Glenister looked at the whiskey a moment, then set it back on the tray. "Bring two lemonades," he said, and with a laugh which was half a sob Cherry Malotte leaned forward and kissed him. "You're too good a man to drink.
However, if you're after that wild-flower dame with the cold- storage talk instead of Cherry Malotte, why, I hope you get her. There's no accounting for tastes. I certainly did my best to send you along this morning." Turning to the Jap steward, he remarked, sagely: "My boy, always remember one thing if you can't boost, don't knock."
"She is a friend," Emerson persisted doggedly, "and I admire her because she is a girl of spirit. If she had not been possessed of enough courage to disregard your instructions, I might have been forced to eject your watchman and take possession of one of your canneries." "We can't entertain all comers. We leave that to Miss Malotte." "And George Balt, eh?" "Dear! dear!" laughed Miss Wayland.
There is a woman at Kalvik who has some men out prospecting." "Cherry Malotte?" "Do you know her?" asked Boyd, with astonishment. "Very well, indeed. I have had some correspondence with her quite recently." Then, noting Boyd's evident curiosity, he went on: "You see, I have made a number of mining investments in the North entirely on my own account," he hastened to explain.
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