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"I'm cussin' the world by sections," growled Joe. "Wal, kid, you g'on up the crick, and get as near a count as you can. I'm ridin' in after men an' wagons. We'll move the camp up heah. It's the wust I ever seen, an' we'll lose a heap of stock. There's a loblolly of blue gumbo mud an' no bottom. An' by thunder we're stuck heah for Lord knows how long."
"When I've raced all the way from Red Creek, banging my car all up, risking my precious life every jump of the way, doing the trip in fifty-three minutes do you think that " "Hey?" cried Guy Little. "How's that? How many minutes? Fifty-three, you said, didn't you? Fifty-three minutes from Red Crick to here? Hey?" "Is the man crazy?" demanded Terry. "Didn't I say I did?
"Over on the crick," answered Denver. "What have you got here, anyway? Is this that diamond drill?" "Never mind, now!" put in the guard who, anticipating a call-down for his negligence, was in a distinctly hostile mood, "you know danged well it is!" "Oh, I do, do I?" retorted Denver, "well, all right pardner, if you say so; but you don't need to call me a liar!"
So we planned it out this way: Thar's a frien' o' mine got a shack down on Bear Crick, 'bout twenty mile below yere. He sells red-eye ter barge an' keel-boatmen, what tie up thar nights. Wal', he's all right a hell o' a good feller. What we aim ter do is run the gurl down thar ternight, unbekno'nst ter enybody. I reckon yer kin ride a hoss?" "Yes; so thet's my job?" "Thet's the whole o' it.
Thar was a dancin'-party Christmas night on "Hell fer Sartain." Jes tu'n up the fust crick beyond the bend thar, an' climb onto a stump, an' holler about ONCE, an' you'll see how the name come. Stranger, hit's HELL fer sartain! Well, Rich Harp was thar from the head-waters, an' Harve Hall toted Nance Osborn clean across the Cumberlan'. Fust one ud swing Nance, an' then t'other.
"There was a fire, all right," he said grimly. "Some one built it, on purpose. It was rustlers, ma'am. They burned the hoofs of the mothers so the mothers couldn't follow when they drove their calves off like any mother would." He eyed her calmly. "I reckon it was Chavis, ma'am. He's got a shack down the crick a ways. He's been there ever since you paid him off.
Blowing gunpowder, and running off into the woods, and most killing Pincher, and going trouting down to the 'crick' with your best clothes on, and disobeying your ma, and " "Sayin' bad words," added Horace, "but I stopped that this morning." "What do you mean, Horace?"
At night the castle is strongly locked, and they are always on the lookout for an attack, they too are audacious fellows." "Just leave it to me. Don't have any fears. What Kandur undertakes is well executed. Crick, crick: that's how I shall break both the fellows' necks." "You are a clever rascal. You showed that in your way of getting at me!
When they see Kuku outside they simply scoot away and buy bromides. There's a crick over between here and the river. That old scamp'd swap his skin any time for a drink of running water. I guess I'll find him there, all right." A few minutes later Alvarita stepped upon the forward platform, ready for her quest. Her handsome black skirt was shaped to the most recent proclamation of fashion.
Pinky said I was to show it, but I'm so sore on that low-life hound now, I swear I won't even take the trouble and lie about it. No more gold in that crick than there is in my eye. Or than there's flour or pork in the house!" The woman's voice was rising. Her gestures were furious. Claire and Milt stood close, their hands slipping together.
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