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Page 50
"Ain't music civilizin'?" suggested Show Low to Jim Allen.
"You bet!" the ranchman agreed. "Take a pianny an' enough
Winchesters an' you can civilize the hull of China."
"Fresno could kill more with his pianny-play than his gun-play,"
suggested Show Low.
Mrs. Allen bethought herself that there was a lot of work to be
done in preparation for the party. Even if everything was ready,
the dear old soul would find something to do or worry about.
"Come, now, clear out of here, the hull kit an' b'ilin' of you,"
she ordered.
The men hastily crowded out on the piazza.
"Take that packin'-case out of sight, if you mean this pianny to
be a surprise to Echo. She'll be trottin' back here in no time,"
she added.
Fresno had lingered to assure Jim: "This yere birthday's goin'
to be a success. Would you like another selection?" he eagerly
asked.
"Not unless you wash your finger," snapped Mrs. Allen, busy
polishing the keys Fresno had struck. "You left a grease-spot on
every key you've touched," she explained.
Fresno held up his finger for Allen's inspection. "I've been
greasin' the wagon," was his explanation.
"Git out with the rest of them," she commanded. "I've got enough
to do to look after that cake." Mrs. Allen darted into the
kitchen. Jim slowly filled his pipe and hunted up the most
comfortable chair. After two or three trials he found one to
suit him, and sank back with a sigh of content.
"Jack ain't back yet?" Polly put the question.
Polly rearranged the chairs in the room, picking up and replacing
the articles on the table to suit her own artistic conceptions.
She straightened out a war-bonnet on the wall. She was flicking
off a spot of dust in the gilt chair that Jack had got as a
wedding present for Echo on the day of the station-agent's
murder, and, being reminded of the tragedy, she asked: "That
posse didn't catch the parties that killed Terrill, did they?"
"Not that I hear on. Slim Hoover he took the boys that night an
tried to pick up the trail after it entered the river, but they
couldn't find where it come out."
"One of them fellers, the man that left the station alone, and
probably done the job, rode a pacin' horse," answered Jim,
between puffs of his pipe.
"Then he's a stranger to these parts. Jack's pinto paces--it's
his regular gait. It's the only pacing hoss around here."
"That's so," he assented, but made no further comment. The full
force of the observation did not strike him at the time.
Polly began to pump Colonel Jim. There were several recent
happenings which she did not fully comprehend. At the
inquisitive age and a girl, she wanted to know all that was going
on.
"Jack's been acting mighty queer of late," she ventured. "Like
he's got something on his mind."
Jim smiled at her simplicity and jokingly replied: "Well, he's
married."
The retort exasperated Polly. She was not meeting with the
success she desired. "Do hush!" she cried, in her annoyance.
"That's enough on any man's mind," Jim laughed as he sauntered
out of the door.
"Something queer about Jack," observed Polly, seating herself at
the table. "He ain't been the same man since the weddin'. He's
all right when Echo's around, but when he thinks no one is
watchin' him he sits around and sighs."
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