"
"Yes, and the look in her eyes in another direction, is plainly to be
read." The implication was lost on Cornish Jack.
"Ol' Bob, he does all he can to throw 'em together. Air ye goin' to the
house warmin' tonight?"
"Certainly," said The Senator. "Particularly if we manage to keep old
Tommy Norton and Black Joe from getting intoxicated, so there will be a
pair of fiddlers on the gulch. Tommy, on such occasions, always has an
attack of religion which precludes the possibility of his assisting at
any profane scene of mirth, and Joe falls into a deep sleep from which
nothing can rouse him for twenty-four hours."
"There's Antelope back. I hear his roan."
"Well, who do you think I met down around the curve of Blackjack Hill?
That gal o' Bob's on her pinto and that sneakin' Handsome Harry on his
black mustang, ridin' full-bent-for-leather!"
The men rushed with one accord to Bob's cabin, where he sat before his
fireless hearth.
"We al'ays knew he was a sneakin' thief, but you wouldn't hear nothin'
agin him.
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