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Adams, Samuel Hopkins, 1871-1958

"Success A Novel"

Do you get that? So I says, 'You're lucky, Bud.
When I get 'em, it's usually snakes and bugs and such-like rep-tyles.
Besides,' I says, 'your train is about to forgit that you got off it,' I
says. With that he gives another screech that don't even mean as much as
Ohio and tails onto the back platform just in time."
Said Ban, after frowning consideration:
"You didn't see any lady around the shack, did you, Jimmy?"
"Not on your life," replied the little man indignantly. "I ain't had
anything like that since I took the mail-teamin' contract."
"How good time do you think Puffy Pete could make across-desert in case
I should want it?" inquired the agent after a pause.
The mail-man contemplated his "team," bubbling and panting a vaporous
breath over the platform. "Pete ain't none too fond of sand," he
confessed. "But if you want to _git_ anywhere, him and me'll git you
there. You know that, Ban."
Banneker nodded comradely and the post chugged away.
Inside the shack Io had set out the luncheon-things. To Banneker's eyes
she appeared quite unruffled, despite the encounter which he had
surmised from Jimmy's sketch.
"Get me some flowers for the table, Ban," she directed. "I want it to
look festive."
"Why, in particular?"
"Because I'm afraid we won't have many more luncheons together.


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