And now, George," concluded Mr.Hamlin, succeeding at last in fixing the boy's evasive eye with a peculiar look, "it may be just as well for you to understand that I know every nook and corner of this place, that I've already been through that underbrush you spoke of once this morning, and that I've got a mare that can go wherever YOU can, and a d----d sight quicker!" "I'll give the package to White Violet," said the boy, doggedly.
"And you'll come back to the hotel ?" The boy hesitated, and then said, "I'll come back." "All right, then.

Adios, general." Bob disappeared around the corner of a cross-road at a rapid trot, and Mr.Hamlin turned into the hotel.
"Smart little chap that!" he said to the barkeeper.
"You bet!" returned the man, who, having recognized Mr.Hamlin, was delighted at the prospect of conversing with a gentleman of such decidedly dangerous reputation.

"But he's been allowed to run a little wild since old man Delatour died, and the widder's got enough to do, I reckon, lookin' arter her four gals, and takin' keer of old Delatour's ranch over yonder.

I guess it's pretty hard sleddin' for her sometimes to get clo'es and grub for the famerly, without follerin' Bob around." "Sharp girls, too, I reckon; one of them writes things for the magazines, doesn't she ?--Cynthia, eh ?" said Mr.Hamlin, carelessly.
Evidently this fact was not a notorious one to the barkeeper.

He, however, said, "Dunno; mabbee; her father was eddicated, and the widder Delatour, too, though she's sorter queer, I've heard tell.