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Spent a night inside a dead horse while a prairie fire swept over me in Montana Territory an' another time slept inside a dead buffler when the Comanches was on the war path an' I didn't keer to leave my kyard on them.
"This is intolerable!" cried Mrs. Hignett. "Did you tell him that I was busy?" "I did not. I loosed him into the dining-room." "Is he a reporter from one of the newspapers?" "He is not. He has spats and a tall-shaped hat. His name is Bream Mortimer." "Bream Mortimer!" "Yes, ma'am. He handed me a bit of a kyard, but I dropped it, being slippy from the dishes." Mrs.
He's shorely the high kyard; thar never is that drug-sharp in the cow country in my day who's fit to pay for Peets' whiskey. Scientific an' eddicated to a feather aige, Peets is. "You-all oughter heard him lay for one of them cliff-climbin', bone-huntin' stone c'llectors who comes out from Washin'ton for the Gov'ment.
"However, that don't seem to occur to Tucson Jennie; an' Doc Peets who's the wisest sharp in Arizona allows to me afterwards as how Tucson Jennie is cuttin' the kyards with herse'f desp'rate to see whether she declar's war at the very time we makes our start. If she does, she turns the low kyard, for she don't say nothin', an' we gets away, an' all is profound peace.
"'An', of course, observes the Colonel with a sigh, 'when you-all puts it in that loocid an' convincin' way, Enright, thar's no more to be said. The strike is now over an' the last kyard dealt. Jim, you an' me an' them printers will return to the vineyard of our efforts. This over-work may be onderminin' me, but Wolfville shall not call to me in vain." The Grinding of Dave Tutt.
But whenever a game gets immoderate that a-way, an' the limit's off, an' things is goin' that locoed they begins to play a thousand an' over on a kyard an' scream for action, gents of experience stands ready to go to duckin' lead an' dodgin' bullets instanter. "But to resoome: The Stingin' Lizard lines up his stuff, an' the deal begins.
One after the other, he tackles us in a severe onmitigated way, an' shoves his professional kyard onto each an' tells him that whenever he feels ill-used to come a-runnin' an' have his rights preserved. Shore! the boys meets this law person half way. They drinks with him an' fills him up with licker an' fictions alternate, an' altogether regyards him as a mighty yoomerous prop'sition.
Then he fills the kettle with water, dumps in the coffee, an' sets her on the coals to stew. "'This yere partic'lar snake, says Crawfish, 'which I calls him Julius Caesar, is too big to tote 'round in my shirt, an' so he lives in the coffee-pot while I'm away, an' keeps camp for me. "'Don't you yearn for no rattlesnakes to fondle? I inquires, jest to see what kyard he'd play.
"'But is thar folks thar? says Dan, who's excited by the Colonel's disclosures. 'Board the kyard, Colonel, an' don't hold us in suspense." "'Folks! returns the Colonel. 'I wishes I has two-bit pieces for every one of 'em! The face of that orb is simply festered with folks! She teems with life; ant-hills on election day means desertion by compar'son.
Ten thousand, coppered, in the pot; ten thousand, open, in the big squar'; an' ten thousand on the high kyard, coppered. "'An' now as then, says Nell, sort o' catchin' her breath, 'the ten-spot's the soda kyard! "Son, it won't happen ag'in in a billion years!
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