Penrod | Page 6

fighting for his very life. At this the
remanin scondrel also cursed and swore vile oaths. Oh sneered he----
---- ----you Harold Ramorez what did you bite me for Yes sneered Mr
Wilson also and he has shot me in the abdomen too the----
Soon they were both cursin and reviln him together Why you---- ----
---- ---- ----sneered they what did you want to injure us for----you
Harold Ramorez you have not got any sence and you think you are so
much but you are no better than anybody else and you are a---- ---- ----
---- ---- ----
Soon our hero could stand this no longer. If you could learn to act like
gentlmen said he I would not do any more to you now and your low
vile exppresions have not got any effect on me only to injure your own
self when you go to meet your Maker Oh I guess you have had enogh
for one day and I think you have learned a lesson and will not soon
atemp to beard Harold Ramorez again so with a tantig laugh he cooly
lit a cigarrete and takin the keys of the cell from Mr Wilson poket went
on out
Soon Mr Wilson and the wonded detective manged to bind up their
wonds and got up off the floor---- ----it I will have that dasstads life
now sneered they if we have to swing for it---- ---- ---- ----him he shall
not eccape us again the low down---- ---- ---- ---- ---- Chapiter seventh
A mule train of heavily laden burros laden with gold from the mines
was to be seen wondering among the highest clifts and gorgs of the
Rocky Mts and a tall man with a long silken mustash and a cartigde
belt could be heard cursin vile oaths because he well knew this was the
lair of Harold Ramorez Why---- ---- ----you you---- ---- ---- ---- mules

you sneered he because the poor mules were not able to go any quicker
---- you I will show you Why---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----it sneered he his
oaths growing viler and viler I will whip you---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----
----you sos you will not be able to walk for a week---- ----you you
mean old---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----mules you
Scarcly had the vile words left his lips when----
"PENROD!"
It was his mother's voice, calling from the back porch.
Simultaneously, the noon whistles began to blow, far and near; and the
romancer in the sawdust-box, summoned prosaically from steep
mountain passes above the clouds, paused with stubby pencil halfway
from lip to knee. His eyes were shining: there was a rapt sweetness in
his gaze. As he wrote, his burden had grown lighter; thoughts of Mrs.
Lora Rewbush had almost left him; and in particular as he recounted
(even by the chaste dash) the annoyed expressions of Mr. Wilson, the
wounded detective, and the silken moustached mule-driver, he had felt
mysteriously relieved concerning the Child Sir Lancelot. Altogether he
looked a better and a brighter boy.
"Pen-ROD!"
The rapt look faded slowly. He sighed, but moved not.
"Penrod! We're having lunch early just on your account, so you'll have
plenty of time to be dressed for the pageant. Hurry!"
There was silence in Penrod's aerie.
"PEN-rod!"
Mrs. Schofields voice sounded nearer, indicating a threatened approach.
Penrod bestirred himself: he blew out the lantern, and shouted
plaintively:
"Well, ain't I coming fast's I can?"
"Do hurry," returned the voice, withdrawing; and the kitchen door
could be heard to close.
Languidly, Penrod proceeded to set his house in order.
Replacing his manuscript and pencil in the cigar-box, he carefully
buried the box in the sawdust, put the lantern and oil-can back in the
soap-box, adjusted the elevator for the reception of Duke, and, in no
uncertain tone, invited the devoted animal to enter.
Duke stretched himself amiably, affecting not to hear; and when this
pretence became so obvious that even a dog could keep it up no longer,

sat down in a corner, facing it, his back to his master, and his head
perpendicular, nose upward, supported by the convergence of the two
walls. This, from a dog, is the last word, the comble of the immutable.
Penrod commanded, stormed, tried gentleness; persuaded with honeyed
words and pictured rewards. Duke's eyes looked backward; otherwise
he moved not. Time elapsed. Penrod stooped to flattery, finally to
insincere caresses; then, losing patience spouted sudden threats.
Duke remained immovable, frozen fast to his great gesture of
implacable despair.
A footstep sounded on the threshold of the store-room.
"Penrod, come down from that box this instant!"
"Ma'am?"
"Are you up in that sawdust-box again?" As Mrs. Schofield had just
heard her son's voice issue from