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|In The Carquinez Woods||Bret Harte|
|Page 5 of 5||
"Then you calkilate to go down thar," said Brace contemptuously, "yell out for him and Nellie, and let him line you on a rest from the first tree as if you were a grizzly."
There was a pause. "What's that you were saying just now about a bearskin he sold?" asked Dunn slowly, as if reflecting.
"He exchanged a bearskin," replied Brace, "with a single hole right over the heart. He's a dead shot, I tell you."
"D--n his shooting," said Dunn. "I'm not thinking of that. How long ago did he bring in that bearskin?"
"About two weeks, I reckon. Why?"
"Nothing! Look yer, Brace, you mean well--thar's my hand. I'll go down with you there, but not as the sheriff. I'm going there as Jim Dunn, and you can come along as a white man, to see things fixed on the square. Come!"
Brace hesitated. "You'll think better of my plan before you get there; but I've said I'd stand by you, and I will. Come, then. There's no time to lose."
They passed out into the darkness together.
"What are you waiting for?" said Dunn impatiently, as Brace, who was supporting him by the arm, suddenly halted at the corner of the house.
"Some one was listening--did you not see him? Was it the old man?" asked Brace hurriedly.
"Blast the old man! It was only one of them Mexican packers chock-full of whisky, and trying to hold up the house. What are you thinking of? We shall be late."
In spite of his weakness, the wounded man hurriedly urged Brace forward, until they reached the latter's lodgings . To his surprise, the horse and buggy were already before the door.
"Then you reckoned to go, any way?" said Dunn, with a searching look at his companion.
"I calkilated SOMEBODY would go," returned Brace, evasively, patting the impatient Buckskin; "but come in and take a drink before we leave."
Dunn started out of a momentary abstraction, put his hand on his hip, and mechanically entered the house. They had scarcely raised the glasses to their lips when a sudden rattle of wheels was heard in the street. Brace set down his glass and ran to the window.
"It's the mare bolted," he said, with an oath. "We've kept her too long standing. Follow me," and he dashed down the staircase into the street. Dunn followed with difficulty; when he reached the door he was already confronted by his breathless companion. "She's gone off on a run, and I'll swear there was a man in the buggy!" He stopped and examined the halter-strap, still fastened to the fence. "Cut! by God!"
Dunn turned pale with passion. "Who's got another horse and buggy?" he demanded.
"The new blacksmith in Main Street; but we won't get it by borrowing," said Brace.
"How then?" asked Dunn savagely.
"Seize it, as the sheriff of Yuba and his deputy, pursuing a confederate of the Injin Low--THE HORSE THIEF!"
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|In The Carquinez Woods
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