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"All right, Jimmy," said another. "We are with you, horse, foot and artillery. When you want us, give us the high-sign and we will come. Otherwise we will leave you to your beloved books. It is too bad, though, as the bar-boy was just explaining how the great drought might be circumvented by means of carrots, potato peelings, dish-water, and a raisin."

"Well then, here's the biggest game I've been up against since I crawled out of the trenches and shucked my uniform. I come to you and give you the high-sign and you throw me down. You don't want to play with me is that it?" "Oh, Worth! I do. I do want to play with you," she was almost in tears now. "But you see, I didn't quite understand.

"I gotcha," announced Bross, upon prolonged and painful analysis. "How?" asked P. Sybarite, who had fallen to thinking of other matters. "I mean, I just dropped to your high-sign to mind my own business. All right, P.S. Far be it from me to wanta pry into your Past. Besides, I 'm scared to never can tell what I'll turn up like, f'rinstance, Per " "Steady!"

"A little old trunk-juggler up the trail told me about the Flying U outfit that is still sending their wagons out when the grass gets green. I stopped off to give the high-sign to the boys, and say howdy, and swap yarns, and maybe haze some of 'em gently into camp. I wanted to see if the Flying U has got any real ones left." Andy Green looked eloquently at the Native Son.

He shifted his own gun arm and continued on his course without apparently noticing the other who approached in the same manner. Suddenly he laughed: "Hello, Curt!" "Well, I'm damned if it ain't Tex! Thought maybe I was going to get the high-sign." "Same here." Both men relaxed from their attitude of alertness, and Curt leaned closer.

Somehow, when I saw those girls blushin' and bowin' behind their father, I didn't care to have my crimes made out any blacker'n necessary and I tried to give Jim the high-sign to let me off easy just make it forgery or arson but he was lookin' at the ladies, and evidently believin' in the strength of a good impression, he said: "Well, yes!

"Rap-rap-rap!" sounded sharply from the head of her bed. Gertie stopped sobbing, and her heart stopped beating. She lay tense and still, listening. Everyone knows that spooks rap three times at the head of one's bed. It's a regular high-sign with them. "Rap-rap-rap!" Gertie's skin became goose-flesh, and coldwater effects chased up and down her spine.