Speakin' personal, I'm stuck on that
baggage coach song of Mrs. More's."
"Mo_ray!_" Willie corrected. "M-o-r-a! Heleney Mo_ray_
is the lady's name."
"Mebbe so. Our foot-runner likes that Injun war-dance best of
all." Carara smiled at Cloudy, who nodded, as if pleased by the
compliment. Then it was that the Flying Heart spokesman made an
inquiry in hushed, hesitating tones.
"How do you like _The Holy City_"--he removed his hat, as
did those back of him. "As sung by Madam-o-sella Melby?"
"Rotten!" Gallagher said promptly. "That's a bum, for fair."
During one breathless instant the wizened man stood as if
disbelieving his ears, the enormity of the insult robbing him of
speech and motion. Then he uttered a snarl, and Stover was barely
in time to intercept the backward fling of his groping hand.
"No voylence, Willie! There's ladies present."
Stover's captive ground his teeth and struggled briefly, then
turned and made for the open prairie without a word.
"It's his first love," said Stover, simply. The other foreman
exploded into hoarse laughter, saying:
"I didn't reckon I was treadin' on the toes of no bereafed
relatif's, but them church tunes ain't my style.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191