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Updated: June 24, 2025
"Got the money?" he asked. "Have you?" countered Orde. Apparently satisfied, the man nodded. "I'll go you, bub, if I lose," said he. "Lay out your money." Orde counted out nine fifty-dollar bills and five tens. Probably no one in the group of men standing about had realised quite how much money five hundred dollars meant until they saw it thus tallied out before them.
They showed you where the jack was before they throwed, and it surely looked like a picnic, but it wasn't." "Three-card monte," said Newmark. "How much?" asked Simms. "About fifty dollars," replied the boy. Orde turned on the disgruntled cook. "And you had fifty in your turkey, camping with this outfit of hard citizens!" he cried. "You ought to lose it."
Pritchard is no irreparable loss." "Jack!" cried Mrs. Orde. "He isn't," insisted Orde stoutly. "But Kincaid was seen by several competent witnesses coming out from that thicket, and as far as anybody has been able to find out he is the only human being who was out there to-day. They have him under arrest." "I never heard of anything so ridiculous!" cried Mrs. Orde indignantly.
The next train out from Redding They'll be here by five in the morning at soonest. Hope it'll be later." "What will you do?" asked Newmark. "Take chances," replied Orde. "All you boys get to work. Zeke," he commanded one of the cookees, "go up road, and report if Morris comes back. I reckon this time we'll have to scatter if he comes after us. I hope we won't have to, though.
"You are quite right not to allow me to say mean things about your friends, and I am a nasty little snip." Orde bowed with sudden gravity. "And they do throw bread," said he. They both laughed. She leaned back with a movement of satisfaction, seeming to sink into the shadows. "Now, tell me; what do you do?" "What do I do?" asked Orde, puzzled. "Yes. Everybody does something out West here.
"But it is being done!" cried Bob. "There is no difficulty in doing it." "That's for you to prove, if you want to," said Orde. "If you care to resign from the Service, we will for two years give you full swing with our timber, to cut and log according to your ideas or rather the ideas of those over you. In that time you can prove your point, or fail.
He was resting on his oars, and the duck-boat drifted silently by the swaying brown reeds. Welton nodded. "I want you to take him and break him in. I'd rather have you than any one I know. You're the only one of the outsiders who stayed by the Big Jam," Orde continued. "Don't try to favour him that's no favour. If he doesn't make good, fire him.
His hair surrounded his face as an aureole of darkness, and swept low to his coat collar. "Mr. Baker," he said, simply, his eyes inscrutable. "Well, Sunny, this is my old friend Bob Orde. Bob, this is the world-famous Sunny Larue, apostle of the Unlimited Life of whom you've heard so much." He winked at Bob. "How's the Colony flourishing, Sunny?"
"All my eggs are in one basket, and it's a mean trick of you to hire out for filthy lucre to kick that basket." "What do ye mane?" asked the Rough Red, fixing his twinkling little eyes on Orde. "You don't mean to tell me," countered Orde, glancing down at the other's rubber-shod feet, "that this crew has been sent up here just to break out those measly little rollways?"
I hadn't told anybody, because I had been undecided as to what I was going to do." Orde whistled. "I got away, and had quite a time getting home. I'll tell you all the details some other time. On the road I met Newmark. I was pretty mad, so I lit into him stiff-legged. After a few words he got scared and pulled a gun on me.
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