âainât got no double chins. How many shells left in your gun?â
âWhen he looks he finds thereâs only one more, for he hadnât stopped to fill the magazine, so I cautions him.
ââYouâre shootinâ too low. Raise her.â
âHe raised her all right, and caught Mr. Bruin in the snout. What followed thereafter was most too quick to notice, for the poor bear let out a bawl, dropped off his limb into the midst of them raginâ, turâble, seventy-pun hounds, anâ hugged âem to death, one after another, like he was doinâ a system of health exercises. He took âem to his boosum as if heâd just got back off a long trip, then, droppinâ the last one, he made at that younger son anâ put a gold fillinâ in his leg. Yes, sir; most chewed it off. HâAnglish let out a Siberian-wolf holler hisself, anâ I had to step in with the hatchet and kill the brute though I was most dead from laughinâ.
âThatâs how it is with me anâ Glenister,â the old man concluded. âWhen he gets tired experimentalâ with this new law game of hisn, Iâll step in anâ do business on a common-sense basis.â
âYou talk as if you wouldnât get fair play,â said Helen.
âWe wonât,â said he, with conviction. âI look on all lawyers with suspicion, even to old bald-faceâyour uncle, askinâ your pardon anâ gettinâ it, beinâ as Iâm a friend anâ he ainât no real relation of yours, anyhow. No, sir; theyâre all crooked.â
Dextry held the Western distrust of the legal professionâcomprehensive, unreasoning, deep.
âIs the old man all the kin youâve got?â he questioned, when she refused to discuss the matter.
âHe isâin a way. I have a brother, or I hope I have, somewhere. He ran away when we were both little tads and I havenât seen him since. I heard about him, indirectly, at Skagwayâthree years agoâduring the big rush to the Klondike, but he has never been home. When father died, I went to live with Uncle Arthurâsome day, perhaps, Iâll find my brother. Heâs cruel to hide from me this way, for there are only we two left and Iâve loved him always.â
She spoke sadly and her mood blended well with the gloom of her companion, so they stared silently out over the heaving green waters.
âItâs a good thing me anâ the kid had a little piece of money ahead,â Dextry resumed later, reverting to the thought that lay uppermost in his mind, ââcause weâd be up against it right if we hadnât. The boy couldnât have amused himself none with these court proceedings, because they come high. I call âem luxuries, like brandied peaches anâ silk undershirts.
âI donât trust these Jim Crow banks no more than I do lawyers, neither. No, sirree! I bought a iron safe anâ hauled it out to the mine. She weighs eighteen hundred, and we keep our money locked up there. Weâve got a feller named Johnson watchinâ it now. Steal it? Well, hardly. They canât bust her open without a stick of âgiantâ which would rouse everybody in five miles, anâ they canât lug her off bodilyâsheâs too heavy. No; itâs safer there than any place I know of. There ainât no abscondinâ cashiers anâ all that. Tomorrer Iâm goinâ back to live on the claim anâ watch this receiver man till the thingâs settled.â
When the girl arose to go, he accompanied her up through the deep sand of the lane-like street to the main, muddy thoroughfare of the camp. As yet, the planked and gravelled pavements, which later threaded the town, were unknown, and the incessant traffic had worn the road into a quagmire of chocolate-colored slush, almost axle-deep, with which the store fronts, show-windows, and awnings
James Kakalios
Tara Fox Hall
K. Sterling
Jonathan Maberry
Mary Balogh
Elizabeth Moynihan
Jane Hunt
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley
Jacquie Rogers
Shiloh Walker