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It was purty dark but we see plain as day that there was a man in the saddle, bendin' low over the hoss's neck and shoutin' to it. Well, we shore was guessin'. We waited a couple o' minutes, wonderin' what to do, an' listenin' to the hoss gittin' furder and furder away in the direction of the cross-roads. Then, 'way down there by the pike we heerd another shot.
"If you mean a dodge, why don't you say a dodge?" retorted Billy; "well, what is your dodge? look alive, for daddy'll be shoutin' for his grog in a minute."
One of our first war heroes, Ben Riggs was, and for nearly two weeks there he had the great American people shoutin' themselves hoarse in his honor, as you might say. There was editorials, comparin' his stunt to what Dewey did at Manila Bay, or Hobson at Santiago, and showin' how Private Ben had a shade the best of it, after all.
It's sartinly too cold to let a man stand in the holler long, whether he be sober or drunk;" with which remark the Trapper stepped to the door, and flung it open. "What is it, Wild Bill? what is it?" he called. "Be ye drunk, or be ye sober, that ye stand there shoutin' in the cold with a log cabin within a dozen rods of ye?" "Sober, John Norton, sober. Sober as a Moravian preacher at a funeral."
It was the first time he had ever been behind the scenes at this sort of game. "But that was a good talk, just the same," he interrupted a cynical bit of bragging. "Say, wasn't it!" cried Porter. "I got that out of a shoutin' evangelist. The minute I heard it I saw where it was hot stuff for my spiel. I'm that way: I got that kind of good eye.
The girl became aware that her foreman was looking at her with a wary silent vigilance sinister in its intensity. "In short, you're like the rest of the people in this section. You're afraid." "Now y'u're shoutin', Miss Messiter. I sure am when it comes to shootin' off my mouth about Bannister." "And you, Mr. Morgan?"
I ain't exactly sorry, Lew, but but there's only one thing on God's earth that keeps me from being sorry." "What?" "You." He flecked his cigar, hitching his arm up along the chair-back, laughed, reddened slightly. "That's the way to talk! These last two nights you been lightin' up with a man so he can get within ten feet of you. Now you're shoutin'!"
He kept on for two or three hundred yards at the same pace while the car, forging up on him, was noisy with shouts and commands to stop. He slowed down to a trot and grinned at the men who stood in the car and pointed their revolvers at him. His pistol was dangling in his hand. "You gents want me?" he asked, pleasantly. His former captor sputtered an oath. "You're shoutin' we want you," he cried.
But now! why that boy comes into the house singin' and spoutin' poetry at the top of his lungs, jest as happy as a kitten with a spool. What was that he was shoutin' this mornin', Pinkrosia, when he scairt the old black hen nigh to death?" "'Charge for the golden lilies! Upon them with the lance!" murmured Pink, with a smile. "Yes, that was it!" said Mrs. Chirk.
Ho! don't you 'eed what a girl says, An' don't you go for the beer; But I was an ass when I was at grass, An' that is why I'm 'ere. 'Ay, listen to our little man now, singin' an' shoutin' as tho' trouble had niver touched him.
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