FORE:THE DEACON'S CULINARY OPERATIONS BRING HIM LOTS OF TROUBLE.The father's face grew more sorrowful than be fore. "What does it say?" he nerved himself to ask, after a moment's pause.
FORE:
FORE:Si and Shorty ran down in the direction indicated. They found the boys, stern-eyed and resolute, surrounding two weak-eyed, trembling "crackers," who had apparently come to the train with baskets of leathery-crusted dried-apple pies for sale. The men were specimens of the weak-minded, weak-bodied, lank-haired "po' white trash," but the boys had sized them up on sight as dangerous spies and guerrillas, had laid hands on them and dragged them down into the brush, where Gid Mackall and Harry Joslyn were doing a fair reproduction of Williams, Paulding and Van Wert searching Maj. Andre's clothes for incriminating documents. They had the prisoners' hands tied behind them and their ankles bound. So far they had discovered a clumsy brass-barreled pistol and an ugly-looking spring dirk, which were sufficient to confirm the dangerous character of the men. Two of the boys had secured ropes from the train, which they were trying to fashion into hangman's nooses. Gid and Harry finished a painstaking examination of the men's ragged jeans vests, with a look of disappointment at finding nothing more inculpating that some fishhooks, chunks of twist tobacco and cob-pipes.
THREE:Yelling so much made him dry, and the canteen hung so invitingly near his hand.
THREE:MRS. G.: Money won't do them any good. No. What we need is the government, to do something about this."Me run away," thought Shorty, as they walked along. "Hosses couldn't drag me away. I only hope that house is 10 miles off."
