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grub,” the cook conceded.

“What’s left of ’em?” repeated Raidler in a husky voice. Mechanically he began to look around for McGuire’s grave. He had in his mind a white slab such as he had seen in the Alabama churchyard. But immediately he knew that was foolish.

“Sure,” said Pete; “what’s left. Cow camps change in two months. Some’s gone.”

Raidler nerved himself.

“That⁠—chap⁠—I sent along⁠—McGuire⁠—did⁠—he⁠—”

“Say,” interrupted Pete, rising with a chunk of corn bread in each hand, “that was a dirty shame, sending that poor, sick kid to a cow camp. A doctor that couldn’t tell he was graveyard meat ought to be skinned with a cinch buckle. Game as he was, too⁠—it’s a scandal among snakes⁠—lemme tell you what he done. First night in camp the boys started to initiate him in the leather breeches degree. Ross Hargis busted him one swipe with his chaparreras, and what do you reckon the poor child did? Got up, the little skeeter, and licked Ross. Licked Ross Hargis. Licked him good. Hit him plenty and everywhere and hard. Ross’d just get up and pick out a fresh place to lay down on agin.

“Then that McGuire goes off there and lays down with his head in the grass and bleeds. A hem’ridge they calls it. He lays there eighteen hours by the watch, and they can’t budge him. Then Ross Hargis, who loves any man who can lick him, goes to work and damns the doctors from Greenland to Poland Chiny; and him and Green Branch Johnson they gets McGuire into a tent, and spells each other feedin’ him chopped raw meat and whisky.

“But it looks like the kid ain’t got no appetite to git well, for they misses him from the tent in the night and finds him rootin’ in the grass, and likewise a drizzle fallin’. ‘G’wan,’ he says, ‘lemme go and die like I wanter. He said I was a liar and a fake and I was playin’ sick. Lemme alone.’

“Two weeks,” went on the cook, “he laid around, not noticin’ nobody, and then⁠—”

A sudden thunder filled the air, and a score of galloping centaurs crashed through the brush into camp.

“Illustrious rattlesnakes!” exclaimed Pete, springing all ways at once; “here’s the boys come, and I’m an assassinated man if supper ain’t ready in three minutes.”

But Raidler saw only one thing. A little, brown-faced, grinning chap, springing from his saddle in the full light of the fire. McGuire was not like that, and yet⁠—

In another instant the cattleman was holding him by the hand and shoulder.

“Son, son, how goes it?” was all he found to say.

“Close to the ground, says you,” shouted McGuire, crunching Raidler’s fingers in a grip of steel; “and dat’s where I found it⁠—healt’ and strengt’, and tumbled to what a cheap skate I been actin’. T’anks fer kickin’ me out, old man. And⁠—say! de joke’s on dat croaker, ain’t it? I looked t’rough the window and see him playin’ tag on dat Dago kid’s solar plexus.”

“You son of a tinker,” growled the cattleman, “whyn’t you talk up and say the doctor never examined you?”

“Ah⁠—g’wan!” said McGuire, with a flash of his old asperity, “nobody can’t bluff me. You never ast me. You made your spiel, and you t’rowed me out, and I let it go at dat. And, say, friend, dis chasin’ cows is outer sight. Dis is de whitest bunch of sports I ever travelled with. You’ll let me stay, won’t yer, old man?”

Raidler looked wonderingly toward Ross Hargis.

“That cussed little runt,” remarked Ross tenderly, “is the Jo-dartin’est hustler⁠—and the hardest hitter in anybody’s cow camp.”

Sound and Fury

Persons of the Drama

Mr. Penne, an author

Miss Lore, an amanuensis

Scene⁠—Workroom of Mr. Penne’s popular novel factory.

Mr. Penne Good morning, Miss Lore. Glad to see you so prompt. We should finish that June installment for the Epoch today. Leverett is crowding me for it. Are you quite ready? We will resume where we left off yesterday. Dictates. “Kate, with a sigh, rose from his knees, and⁠—” Miss Lore Excuse me; you mean “rose from her knees,” instead of “his,” don’t you? Mr. Penne Er⁠—no⁠—“his,” if you please. It is the love scene in the garden. Dictates. “Rose from his knees where, blushing with youth’s bewitching coyness, she had rested for a moment after Cortland had declared his love. The hour was one of supreme and tender joy. When Kate⁠—scene that Cortland never⁠—” Miss Lore Excuse me; but wouldn’t it be more grammatical to say “when Kate saw,” instead of “seen”? Mr. Penne The context will explain. Dictates. “When Kate⁠—scene that Cortland never forgot⁠—came tripping across the lawn it seemed to him the fairest sight that earth had ever offered to his gaze.” Miss Lore Oh! Mr. Penne Dictates. “Kate had abandoned herself to the joy of her newfound love so completely, that no shadow of her former grief was cast upon it. Cortland, with his arm firmly entwined about her waist, knew nothing of her sighs⁠—” Miss Lore Goodness! If he couldn’t tell her size with his arm around⁠— Mr. Penne Frowning. “Of her sighs and tears of the previous night.” Miss Lore Oh! Mr. Penne Dictates. “To Cortland the chief charm of this girl was her look of innocence and unworldiness. Never had nun⁠—” Miss Lore How about changing that to “never had any?” Mr. Penne Emphatically. “Never had nun in cloistered cell a face more sweet and pure.” Miss Lore Oh! Mr. Penne Dictates. “But now Kate must hasten back to the house lest her absence be discovered. After a fond farewell she turned and sped lightly away. Cortland’s gaze followed her. He watched her rise⁠—” Miss Lore Excuse me, Mr. Penne; but how could he watch her eyes while her back was turned toward him? Mr. Penne With extreme politeness. Possibly you would gather my meaning more intelligently if you would wait for the conclusion of the sentence. Dictates. “Watched her rise as gracefully as a fawn as she mounted the eastern terrace.” Miss Lore Oh! Mr. Penne Dictates. “And yet Cortland’s position was so far above that of this
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