"And it weren't no fairy-story neither.
Bill Jennings sold the hat hisself, and the sheriff paid for it, and
that young Annersley walked out of the store with said hat on his
_head_. Yes, sir! Things looked mighty queer."
"Things would 'a' looked a mighty sight queerer if he'd 'a' walked out
with it on his foot," suggested a friend of Owen's who had been
buttonholed and told the alarming news.
Meanwhile Pete attended to his own business, which was to get his few
things together, pay his hotel-bill, settle his account with the
sheriff--which included cab-hire in El Paso--and write a letter to
Doris Gray--the latter about the most difficult task he had ever faced.
He thought of making her some kind of present--but his innate good
sense cautioned him to forego that pleasure for a while, for in making
her a present he might also make a mistake--and Pete was becoming a bit
cautious about making mistakes, even though he did think that that
green velvet hat with a yellow feather, in the millinery store in
Sanborn, was about the most high-toned ladies' sky-piece that he had
ever beheld.
Pages:
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545