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"Furthermore," California John went on, impressively, after a moment, "where did that man and that hoss come from in the beginning? Not from up this way. They's no fresh tracks comin' down the road no more than they's fresh tracks goin' up. Not from camp. They's no tracks whatsomever on the road below, except our'n and the stage outfit's."
"You boys kept to instructions?" he demanded sharply. "No one's wise to your camp?" "Not a thing." "There's not a word of me going around the city?" "Not a word." "The outfit's complete?" "Sure. To the last boy. You can break camp the day after this stuff's hauled and we've packed it." "Good." Kars sighed as if in relief. "Well, I'll get on. Hustle all you know.
Feller cain't possibly keep busy all th' love in his system, workin' it off on nothing but a pet hoss or gun; thar's allus a hell of a lot you didn't know you had comes oozin' out when a proper piece o' calico lets you next." "Boys," cut in Bill Ball, the dean of the outfit's shooters-up of town and shooters-out of dance-hall lights; "boys, I allow it 's up to me to 'pologize to Circuit.
"Not by what you might call a long chalk," was the dry reply. The big man looked relieved. "That's all right," he said. "Because when it is I guess I can go right along and get to bed. That little outfit's going to finish the war, sir." "Hardly," said Sir William. "But it's intended to help things in that direction.
No, they don't win on the play; the Saucy Willow's parents is out dinero on the nuptials when all is done. They has to give Bill their wickeyup. "When Bill's outfit's fully ready to deal for blood they picks out some bright afternoon. The Saucy Willow's fam'ly is goin' about lookin' partic'lar harmless an' innocent; but they're coony enough to be in camp that day.
The Major closed an eye and with the other looked quizzically at Teeters, adding, "If it wa'nt for Starlight " "Starlight is shore some Injun," replied the cowboy, grinning understandingly. "Now what for an outfit's that?" The moving cloud of dust which the Major had forgotten in his keen interest in the conversation was almost upon them.
"I thought I'd ride over for a smoke an' a talk before goin' down the crick to where the outfit's workin'," he said to the young man. And now his eyes swept Ferguson's lank figure with a searching glance. "But I didn't know you was havin' company," he added. The second glance that he threw toward Ferguson was not friendly. Ferguson's lips curled slightly under it.
Le Moyne," said the Virginian, "the outfit's cookin' stuff is aboard, and if you'll get the fire ready, we'll try how frawgs' laigs go fried." He walked off at once, the man following like a dog. Inside the caboose rose a gust of laughter. "Frogs!" muttered Scipio. And then turning a blank face to me, "Frogs?" "Colonel Cyrus Jones had them on his bill of fare," I said. "Shoo!
The first weapon he tried threw the shots an inch or two to one side, but he finally obtained a pair that worked perfectly. Then he sanded the wooden handles of the guns to roughen them slightly. "It nevah pays to have yo' hand slip when makin' a draw," he explained. The outfit's camp fire was shielded with canvas that night, at Kid's suggestion.
I could take you to the place to-day, but the outfit's gone." "And when he had served his term, what happened?" "He came out to find that his wife was dead, and Emily, the little girl that was born just after he went up, was none too well treated by the people her mother'd had to leave her with.
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