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Here my wife has been slaving over a red-hot stove cooking grub for you hoboes for years and the first bum that forgets and leaves his purse has eight hundred dollars cash! Now you git, dad-burn ye, before I do the world a favor and fill you full of lead!"
"Where's the letter that came with this report, Skinner?" Cappy piped. "He didn't enclose one, Mr. Ricks." "Im-possible!" "All of Captain Peasley's communications with this office since he entered our employ have been by wire." "But dad-burn the fellow, Skinner why doesn't he write and tell us something?" "About what?" "Why, about his ship, his voyage any old thing.
"Do they come like a hurricane, and disappear again like an April shower?" "That's about it," answered Shorty disdainfully. "That's the way with all cavalry, dad-burn 'em. They're like a passel o' fice pups. They're all yelp and bark, and howl and showin' o' teeth. They're jest goin' to tear you to pieces.
He cared nothing for that now, but he felt it indeed a reproach to tamely let this man take his horse when he had all the mountain at his back. There was a sharp humiliation in his position. He felt the pressure of public opinion. "Dad-burn him!" he exclaimed. "Ef I kin make out ter git a glimge o' him, I'll shoot him dead dead!" He leaned the rifle against the rock. It struck upon a ledge.
"Well that's all right," he ran on hastily, "I see you aren't the man. There was a renegade came through here on the twentieth of last July and stole everything I had. I trailed him, dad-burn him, clear to the edge of Death Valley he was riding my favorite burro and if it hadn't been for a sandstorm that came up and stopped me, I'd have bored him through and through.
Them dogs they'd jump me the minute Rabbit winked at 'em they'd chaw me up like a couple of lions. She's raised 'em up to do it, dad-burn her! Had my old vest to learn 'em the scent." "A man never ought to leave his old vest behind him when he runs away from his wife," said Mackenzie, soberly.
"I noticed her sot the candle in the winder jes' las' night arter supper." He glanced about uncertainly, and his patience seemed to give way suddenly. "Dad-burn the old candle! I dunno whar ter set it," he cried, desperately, as he flung it from him, and it fell upon the floor close to the wall.
Then there's the freight and the milling and with one thing and another I need about two thousand dollars." "Oh! Two thousand dollars. Seems to me," observed L. W., "I've heard that sum mentioned before." "You have, dad-burn ye, and this time I want it. What's the matter, ain't that ore good for it all?"
And you ditched me, L. W., dad-burn you, you know it; you sold me out to McBain. But I've got something now that runs up into millions! All it needs is a little more work!" "Yes, and forty miles of railroad," put in L. W. intolerantly. "I wouldn't take the whole works for a gift!" "No, but Lon, I'm lucky you know that yourself I can go East and sell the old mine."
"Dad-burn that thar fresky filly!" he cried, angrily. "Jes' brung her noisy bones up on that thar porch agin, an' her huffs will bust spang through the planks o' the floor the fust thing ye know." The narrow aperture, as he held the door ajar, showed outlined against the darkness the graceful head of a young mare, and once more hoof-beats resounded on the rotten planks of the porch.
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