We worked up
the canon trail and over the pass, with the pack staying meekly behind
most of the time. Just the other side of the pass they actually got a
rabbit, though not working with their old-time recklessness, I thought.
Of course we had to stop and watch this. Brother looked the other way
and sister just set there biting her lips, with an evil gleam in her
pale-blue eyes. Not a beagle in the pack would have trusted himself
alone with her at that minute if he'd known his business.
"Then we rode on down toward Cousin Egbert's shack, with nothing further
happening and the pups staying back in a highly conservative manner.
Brother says that yonder is the Mr. Floud's place he had spoken of, and
ma wants to know if he, too, goes in for ranching, and I says yes, he's
awfully keen about it; so she says we'll ride over and chat with him and
perhaps he can suggest some solution of the mystery in hand. I said all
right, and we ride up.
"Cousin Egbert is tipped back in a chair outside the door, reading a
Sunday paper. Whenever he gets one up here he always reads it clean
through, from murders to want ads.
Pages:
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370