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Justin Wingate, Ranchman

Chapter 3 CLAYTON’S VISITORS

Word Count: 2147    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

the minister's, and that only because Curtis Clayton had purchased it and moved into it, with Justin

hance, as when a batted ball rolling to some obscure corner of the field stops there because no force is applied to move it farther. If there was any observable change in him after Wingate'

ng through the thinly-settled country, and when forced away from home by calls he left Justin at the house of some farmer, usually that of Sloan Jasper, for there the boy found pleasa

m, and once when so engaged he whisked from the table the scorched photograph he had seen before. Clayton had evidently been looking at it, had placed it under a large blotter, and then had neglected to put it away before ad

a few sheep and placed the boy over them as a herder; and, as if to furnish diversion for

he did this in company with Mary Jasper; he on foot, or high on Clayton's horse, the rosy-cheeked girl swaying a

with her for what he deeme

e this critter go is to kill him; that's what my paw says!" and she swayed on, pounding

s dirty prairie schooner. Fogg was a fat young man, whose mustache drooped limply over a wide good-humored mouth, and whose round face was splotched yellow with large freckles. Sanders was even younger than Fogg.

iness was to take photographs, and he began by taking one of Justin standing in the midst of his sheep, wit

m. He ventured to word a question, when he and Fogg sat with Justin and Clayton in the little study after supper, surrounded by Clayton

ade it so. I had my fortune told onc't by a man who had an arm like that, and he said a tiger bit it. He was an East Injun, er a Malay,

suffuse even his dark eyes. He did not answer the question, b

talked; then he returned to his in

ment of hesitation, while a ghastly smile took the attractiveness

said S

now how things should be done. One day I sawed a student's skull open, took out a spoonful of his brains, and sewed the wound up so nicely that he was well in a week. The operation was a great success, but I dipped a little too deep and took out too much of the gray matter, and after that he was alwa

her end of the room, chewing wrathfully, splintering the story with his teeth as he splinte

ily into his chair. "Tell that to a fool an' meb

is fat knee an

ink it was in you! If you do anything like that again I'll have to let a r

lowed in his little eyes; "I was goin' to

to laugh, and seemed about to s

ience is that if you keep the people in a good humor you can fool _all_ of them _all_ of the time, and there ain't any better way than by feeding them anecdotes and jollying them until they th

ry, Indian baskets, bows and arrows, and such things. Seeing that his host was not to be a purchaser, and being in a communicativ

out of a hundred will believe that thing, with its froggy mouth, is a Pueblo ido

till angry; "if 'tain't a

to laugh, and he laughed

Fé, and they look more than anything else like stone fence posts with holes gouged near one end for the eyes, nose and mouth. Them are genuine old Pueb

" said Clayton, speaking

g image on the tabl

they're so ready to believe a Pueblo will sell his for 'most any old thing. Them images are just caricatures, made to sell. I go among the Pueblos three or four times a year and buy up a

ople you're selling to think they're getting the genuine goods at a bargain. It's easier for the Navajo weavers to tear old government blankets to pieces and re-weave them and color them with an

ke photographs for him, of scenery and other things that will sell; and bring him loads of basket work and bows and arrows from the Jicarilla Apaches just over the New Mexican line. He grabs for the Jicarilla work, which I can get almost ch

cceeded in proving several things concerning himself, in addition to

ute in the town, who saw land, houses, and cattle for him, in the grounds of a coffee cup. But he was angered against Clayton and did not return to his house. A dozen times he tol

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