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?”