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"I think plenty wire all fold up neat in prop-room. Wagalexa Conka, he all time clean this studio from trash lie around everywhere." "He does, hey?" Applehead's sunburnt mustache bristled like the whiskers of Compadre when he was snarling defiance at the little black dog. The feud was asserting itself. "Well, this here danged place ain't no studio! It's a ranch, and it b'longs to ME, Nip Furrman.
As soon as the letter was handed to him, the latter waved it in triumph over his head, and rushed forth to effect the deliverance of his dear compadre, Pepito. 'The impressment of Pepito surprised me, for I had not heard of their taking any body who had reached the dignity of a pair of inexpressibles, and the luxury of a pair of shoes.
One day he and I Santiago, Bernal's father had been drinking mescal. We quarrelled I know not why. It is not well nor right for a padre and a compadre to fight there is trouble in Heaven over that. But there is a way; and we did it as others have done. We took off our sombreros, and put our compadreship on the ground under them. That was all right it was hid there under the hat.
Yeah, he’s got jus’ ’bout all he needs to make one big war smoke for you." "And I can’t prove he has them," Drew said bleakly. "Jus’ by makin’ him one little private fire," Anse went on, "he could about put you outta business, compadre. There’s only one thing to do." "Such as?" "Johnny Shannon has got to do some talkin’ his ownself.
It was past noon, and Compadre had not had anything to eat since the night before, when he had lapped up half a saucer of canned milk and had apathetically licked a slice of bacon. Applehead put his ear to the hole and imagined he heard a faint meow from a far corner. He pushed the prairie dog into the aperture and called "Kitty-kitty-kitty" again coaxingly.
That's why Villa and Natera and Carranza are fighting; that's why we, every man of us, are fighting." "Yes ... yes ... exactly what I've been thinking myself," said Venancio in a climax of enthusiasm. "Hey, there, Pancracio," Macias called, "pull down two more beers." "You ought to see how clear that fellow can make things, Compadre," Demetrio said.
Then the Texan was smiling at him. "Seems as how we’s always meetin’ up, don’t it now? Likewise it’s always to m’ benefit, too. Only this time I’ve got me somethin’ to trade. You keep on goin’ down this trail, compadre, an’ maybe you’ll wind up with a spade pattin’ you down nice an’ smooth." "What happened?" Anse drank again with the discipline of a plains rider, a mouthful at a time.
There was a hole alongside the fireplace chimney at the end next the hill, and sometimes when Compadre was especially disenchanted with his world, he went into the hole and nursed his grievances in dark seclusion under the house. Applehead got down upon all fours and called "Kitty, kitty, kitty," with his face close to the hole.
There was mild reproof in Dr. Llewellyn's tone. "I am afraid I am. You see I have been with the 'Little Mother, and I do love her so, and Polly's mother, too, and oh, Compadre, she is lovely. Perfectly lovely. If you could only see Polly with her.
He hated a gang of men hanging around the ranch and eating their fool heads off, he frequently declared. So he and Compadre had lived in unprosperous peace, with a little garden and a little grape arbor and a horse for Applehead in the corral, and teams in the pasture where they could feed and water themselves, and a month's supply of "grub" always in the house.
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