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Gregory, Jackson, 1882-1943

"Under Handicap A Novel"

They can do that while
breakfast is getting ready. And hurry!"
The men looked at him curiously, then at one another. Ben was the
first to move.
"Aye, aye, sir," he said, with a grin, lifting his hand from his hip
to his forelock, and dropping it to his hip again as he walked away.
The others followed.
"Hold on!" cried Conniston, suddenly, before they had gone ten paces.
"Do all of the men know about this?"
The men laughed. "They ain't blind," explained one of them.
"And do they know--does any one of you know--where he got the whisky?"
They shrugged their shoulders. Only the Lark answered.
"I know, pal," he said, slowly. "I seen it."
"All right. You wait a minute. I want to talk with you. You other
fellows get busy."
The little San-Franciscan dropped back and waited. Conniston came up
with him and demanded shortly:
"Tell me about it."
"It was last night, 'bo, about 'leven o'clock, I guess. It was sure
some dark, too, take it from me. I woke up thirsty as a water-front
bum, an' beat it for the water-barrel. Comin' back, I come past the
tent. Bat was in there figgerin' when I went to the wagon. When I come
back he was talkin' to another guy. I stops an' listens, just for fun,
you know. The other guy I hadn't never saw. An' he said as how Mr.
Crawford had sent him out to ask how everything was runnin'. Purty
soon he puts a bottle on the table an' says, 'Have one?' Bat says
'No,' but you could see with one eye shut an' in the dark o' the moon
as he wanted it worse 'n I'd wanted the water I walked clean over to
the barrel to git.


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