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But when you git out of chewin'-tobacco, then where you goin' to git some more?" "To the store, I reckon." "Uh-huh. But where you goin' to git the money?" "He was givin' me all the chewin' I wanted," said Pete. "Uh-huh. Well, I ain't got no money for chewin'-tobacco. But I tell you what, Pete. Now, say I was to give you a dollar a week for for your wages.
The law is the law, and they ain't no use you talkin'." Bud's lips tightened. The marshal's reiterated reference to the law was becoming irksome. He would be decidedly impersonal henceforth. "I seen a pair of walkin' overalls once, hitched to a two-bit shirt with a chewin'-tobacco tag on it. All that held that there fella together was his suspenders.
And say I was to git you one of them guns like you said; you couldn't shoot chewin'-tobacco in that gun, could you?" "Most anybody knows that!" laughed Pete. "But you could buy cartridges with that dollar an' shoot lots." "Would you lick me if I bought chewin'?" "Shucks, no! I was jest leavin' it to you." "When do I git that dollar the first one?" Annersley smiled to himself.
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