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She tells you she heard the prisoner say that her father complained of a ball of fire in his guts before the Monday on which he took the water gruel; she tells you that she remembers that Ann Emmet, the charwoman, was ill about five or six weeks before this time, and that the prisoner ordered her white wine, whey, and broth; that she herself made the broth two or three times, two quarts at a time.
He would wish their necks broke, their legs broke, their guts out, or that the devil might fetch them, or the like; and no marvel, for he that is so hardy to wish damnation or other bad curses to himself, or dearest relations, will not stick to wish evil to the silly beast in his madness. ATTEN. Well, I see still that this Badman was a desperate villain.
"Give us the lead, Father," he cried. "We we just got to have that. Ther' ain't a real lumber-jack in these forests won't follow it. It'll be a scrap. A hell of a scrap. Oh, I know. Maybe some of us'll never see the light of another day. But sure it's got to be. We ought to've gone over from the start, and stood by our jobs. But I guess none of us with wives and kiddies had the guts.
I asked him how he had broken away from it all. At that he laughed, a bitter, hard sort of laugh. 'By having the guts to break away from it, boy, he said. 'It was I who made Victor Marbran come away with me. We worked our passages out to the Cape and made our way up-country to Matabeleland. That was in the early days of Rhodes and Barney Barnato long before I went to Canada.
Why, you poor, pitiful, pusillanimous old pachyderm, if the boy has dishonored you he has honored himself. He's a gallant young gentleman, that's what he is. He has more guts than a bear. He's married the girl, damn you and that's more than you would have done at his age. Ah, don't talk to me!
"God, all this time I've been waiting to find someone with guts enough to smash one of them. Sir, I'm proud to shake your hand." He reached over the wicked-looking muzzle, gripped Hilary's fist, still tight on the gun butt, and pumped vigorously. He dropped the hand, swerved on Grim. "And you too, sir." His little fingers were engulfed in a mighty paw. "I saw it all, I tell you," he babbled.
One winter we sold our meat for clocks that would not go, and watches with broken guts, and files worn smooth, and pistols without cartridges and worthless. And then came famine, and we were without meat, and two-score died ere the break of spring.
You ! I'll hev th' law on ye! I'll shoot ye! I'll drag yer guts out!" So great was the man's fury that a thin white foam flecked his hate-distorted lips, and his voice rose to a high-pitched whine. Endicott glanced toward the two horses that stood, belly-deep, in the lush vegetation. "They like it," he said, calmly. "It's the first feed they have had in two days."
And when at last he hung up the instrument and turned to her, though still furious against the strikers, his voice betrayed the joy of battle, the assurance of victory. "They can't bluff me, they'll have to guess again. It's that damned Holster he hasn't any guts he'd give in to 'em right now if I'd let him. It's the limit the way he turned the Clarendon over to them.
"Crooked just because he ain't got the guts to go straight. Them's the worst kind. They get scared stiff and shoot you when you come in late, thinking you're a second-story artist, and then they're sorry. Chances are he's repenting right now and wishing he was dead and by morning he'll be doing the knife act some more."
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