Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) Read Online Free PDF

throat an’ slowly squeeze the
life out’n him?”
                 “Mustn’t
let angry li’l tempers rise, of timer; it’s a serious
matter to take a human life.”
                 “Who
was talking o’ that?” Mason retorted.
                 The
other’s eyes twinkled. “I gotta admit he does look awful like a skunk,” he
said.

  Chapter
III
                 Wayside
had a shock on the following morning when it saw Paul Lesurge, accompanied by
the man it knew as Snowy, enter the hotel. But it was not the Snowy they were
familiar with; this one had hair and beard trimmed to respectable proportions, and
his shirt was clean. The girl, forewarned, was awaiting them in the little
parlour. She rose as the two men entered. Lesurge effected a simple
introduction:
                 “Miss
Ducane, this is your father’s brother, Philip.” For some moments they studied
each other in silence, this slim, grave-eyed girl and the white-haired, wizened
old man. It was the latter who spoke first.
                 “So
you are George’s little lass, eh?” he said, and the high-pitched voice was
gentle. “You favour yore mother.” Her face lighted up. “You knew her, sir?” she
asked eagerly.
                 Snowy
nodded. “She was a bonny gal—I never seen a purtier —till now,” he added, with
a little smile. “Must be twenty-five year ago—las’ time I went East . I wanted George to jine me, but he’d just married an’
bought that land at Dent’s Crossing . Allus the
plodder, George; I was the rollin’ stone.” Her eyes were moist. “And when he
would have come …”
                 “Paul
told me,” Snowy said sadly. “Pore of Squint—I expect they still called him
that?”
                 “Yes,
but he didn’t mind.”
                 “Got
used to it, I reckon; but when I christened him that at school he gave me a
fine hidin’. But he thought a lot o’ me, George did, an’ even when I near
knocked his left eye out with a hoe he told Dad he fell off’n a fence to save me. Why didn’t he answer my letter?”
                 “But
he did,” she protested. “A few weeks before he—died, he wrote saying he was
selling the farm and coming to join you here.” Snowy shook his head. “Guess it
got lost, mails bein’ as uncertain as females in these parts.” He chuckled at
his little joke. Unnoticed by the girl, Lesurge had tapped his own forehead. “Or
mebbe I disremembered,” he went on. “You see, my dear, some years back I had a
bad sickness an’ since then my memory plays me pranks. Times I even forget—” a
warning shake of the head from the other man pulled him up—“my own name. I’m ‘mowed
here as Snowy , ‘count o’ my white hair. Some folks
figure I’m loco, but you know that ain’t so, don’t you, Paul?”
                 “Of
course, Phil,” Lesurge smiled. “It’s just jealousy, because you have seen so
much more of the world.” In an undertone to the girl, he added, “He’s a bit
eccentric, especially when his memory fails, and the ignorant settlers here
have but one explanation for that, but he’s quite harmless.”
                 “I’m
sure of it,” Mary said warmly. “I must try and make up to him for all he has
suffered.
                 I
can never be sufficiently grateful to you for discovering my uncle; it solves
all my difficulties, and I might never have found him.” The feeling in her low
sweet voice stirred the man’s cold pulses and brought an eager gleam into his
dark eyes.
                 “It
will always be a pleasure to serve you,” he replied. “I am taking Phil away
now, but we’ll meet again this afternoon and discuss plans.” Outside the hotel
the old man glanced at his companion and slyly asked, “How’d I do it?”
                 “Wonderfully,”
Lesurge told him, and meant it.