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If we can hang on till winter, Jo can collect back all she's paid out for tolls and I'll say a little profit on the deal wouldn't make me weep." "But winter's a long way off," Jim McAllen gloomily pointed out. After this there was thoughtful silence. To add to the misfortunes of the second trip to the camps, Jim McAllen broke a reach when the train neared the foot of the grade.
"Wild Cat, you say one o' these Jaspers was bendin' over Jo with this here razoo?" "I'm sure it was that that he had in his hand," Hiram replied. "He was the second one that I soaked, and I saw him drop it." "Boy! Boy! That musta been some fight," observed Jim McAllen. "Think of our ol' Wild Cat puttin' the three of 'em on the run! Man, how comes it I miss all the good things in this life?
A wave of Jo's hand and they understood the noon had come. When they were in camp, and the teams had been fed and watered from the great tank wagon, and Jerkline Jo, with the able help of Twitter-or-Tweet, had made ready the steaming meal, there arose loud praise of the girl's idea concerning the fireless cooker. "By golly, Jo, this here's grub!" applauded Jim McAllen. "Some scheme, ol'-timer!"
She began to impute ugly motives to his absence. The tradition of the alluring Mexican senorita obsessed her. She imagined him engaged in wild romances with sullen beauties. She was worried about guitar music and stilettoes. If there were beautiful senoritas there in McAllen, Jim did not see them. His dissipations were visits to the movie shows and excursions for dinner to Mr. and Mrs.
Hiram's punishing fists were finding their target more frequently now, for the truck man's defense was failing him. He was slowing up breathing hard gulping. "Guess it's time to stop it, Gentle Wild Cat," complacently observed Jim McAllen. Then Hiram finished it. He crowded his big antagonist and beat him to his knees with blows that seemed to be skull crushing.
The others managed to keep their masks on." "Tehachapi Hank and Al Drummond them other two was," said McAllen positively. "Too bad it wasn't one o' them you knocked the mask off of, Wild Cat." "And you never saw this fella that you got a look at?" asked Schultz. Hiram shook his head. "I didn't even see him well," he added.
Up behind her crowded Tom Gulick, Hiram Hooker, Heine Schultz, and Jim McAllen, and, if looks could have killed, the man with the gun would have been ripe for the undertaker's care. "Two dollars! You mean " "A dollar a head, then, ma'am. You got fifty-six animals. That 'u'd be fifty-six dollars, wouldn't it?" He smiled persuasively.
From Oregon now came "Blink" Keddie, who had driven teams for Pickhandle Modock since long before the old railroader had settled at Palada. Tom Gulick came from Utah, where he had been working on a cattle ranch. Heine Schultz and Jim McAllen came from remote regions in the northern lumber woods. But of Ed Hopkins, the prince of mule skinners, and Harry Powell the girl could get no trace.
She smiled at him sweetly and patted his shoulder. "Loyal old Heinrich!" she said. "Just the same old-timer, we must observe the courtesy of the road always. Think it over you'll see I'm right." "Jo, you can't afford a jolt like that," said Jim McAllen. "I can't," Jo told him frankly. "Right now I don't know what to do.
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