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Updated: June 11, 2025
"Fire did you say, Dave?" cried Mr. Carson, as he shook his blanket from him. "Yes, Dad. Over there!" Dave pointed to the glow. It was brighter now. "Yes, it's a fire sure enough," was the ranchman's remark. "And traveling fast, too." "Wind's blowing her this way," remarked Pocus Pete, who had joined the two." Got t' get busy, boys." That last to the cowboys who were now up, ready for business.
The fire had excited everybody and kept them out of bed, although there was no danger of the conflagration's jumping the river. "Why, Miss Frances!" cried the ranchman's wife, who was a fleshy and notoriously good-natured woman, the soul of Western hospitality. "Why, Miss Frances! if you ain't a cure for sore eyes! Do 'light and come in and yer friend, too.
The girl's interest in the forthcoming pageant had called the attention of other people to her more than ever before; but to tell the truth the young folk were rather awe-stricken by Frances' abilities as displayed in the preparation for the entertainment, while the older people did not know just how to treat the wealthy ranchman's daughter whether as a person of mature years, or as a child.
There," she cried, as she opened the door, and her father vanished through it, "get right out, and don't you dare come back for an hour." The ranchman's laugh echoed down the corridor as he moved away. Then Nan, practical and sober once more, closed the door and rang for the chambermaid.
A horseman dashed up outside and presently strode into the room. He was tall and well put together; not quite as straight as an arrow, but straight, and not ungraceful in his height. This was Harry Van Horn, a neighboring cattleman, and he wore the ranchman's rig, including the broad hat and the revolver slung at his hip. But everything about the rig was fresh and natty, in the sunshine.
We've hit something right slap in the middle of the yard! Let's make a break for the scene of the confliggration till we see who's killed!" Blount followed the ranchman's lead, but shortly lost sight of the burly figure in the crowd of curious passengers pouring from the hastily opened vestibules. Seen at closer range, the accident appeared to be disastrous only in a material sense.
Chicken rummaged intelligently until he found what he had hardly dared hope for a small, brown jug that still contained something near a quart of his desire. Half an hour later, Chicken now a gamecock of hostile aspect emerged from the house with unsteady steps. He had drawn upon the absent ranchman's equipment to replace his own ragged attire.
Tell Joe to saddle Cherry, and Sam's horse, and you get a saddle on your own, Vic. I'll want you and about half a dozen of the boys who are hanging around the bunk-house. Tell 'em it's important and tell them yes! tell them to come armed. In fifteen minutes. Understand?" "Si, Capitan," whispered Victorino, glad to get out from under the ranchman's eye for the time being.
A bright handkerchief of scarlet was tied loosely around his throat, which was even a little more bare than was the average ranchman's; and his thick, much-pocketed flannel shirt, worn in place of a waistcoat and coat, was of a shade of red which contrasted and yet harmonized with the scarlet of the neckerchief.
She stopped the flow of blood as best she could and put a pillow under the ranchman's head, kissing him afterward. Then for an interval she sat still. She never knew for how long. Santry reached the house just as Mrs. Purnell and Barker returned with their berries, and the three found the girl bathing the wounded man's face, and crying over him. "Boy, boy!"
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