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I think I see the edge of his shirt yes!" He did see the tip of the Southerner's shirt, and some one else felt him; for at that instant "crack!" went the long rifle, and John Crawford gave vent to an "Ough!" that partook of the mingled characters of an oath and a yell, staggering up against the nearest tree at the same moment, with a rifle-bullet through his left fore-arm, and feeling that sentiment of disgust at the stomach which is inseparable from the forcible entrance of any substance into the human body, in the shape of a wound.

Scipio's bleached eyes brightened with admiration as he considered the Southerner's back. "Well," he stated judicially, "start awful early when yu' go to fool with him, or he'll make you feel unpunctual." "I expaict I've had them almost all of three thousand miles," said the Virginian, tilting his head toward the noise in the caboose. "And I've strove to deliver them back as I received them.

A pulse of triumph shot over the Southerner's face, turning it savage for that fleeting instant. He understood now, and was unable to suppress this much answer. But he was silent. "You see," the Judge explained to me, "I was obliged to let Roberts, my old foreman, go last week. His wife could not have stood another winter here, and a good position was offered to him near Los Angeles." I did see.

There was a slight sneer in the Southerner's voice. Jerry perceived it and thought it directed against him. Instantly his pride rose and his neck stiffened. "Nemmine me," he answered, "nemmine me. I's free, an' w'en a man's free, he's free." "All right, go your own way. You may have to come back to me some time. If you have to come, come. I don't blame you now.

A long line of barges loaded with brick for new houses came floating down the stream behind a busy little tug. On the soft morning breezes the young Southerner's keen car caught the twang of a banjo and the joyous music of negro brickmen singing an old-fashioned melody of his native state; while over all, like an eternal chorus, came the dim muffled roar of the city's life.

The flame of battle, still hot from the afternoon's melee, burned high in the Southerner's soul, for he was not of those whose spirit rapidly cools. Bitter resentment on behalf of Miss Polly Brewster fanned that flame. On one point he was determined: neither he nor the so-called Perkins should leave the mountain until he had had from the latter's own lips a full explanation.

Necessarily New York is the metropolis." "Oh, everything comes here," said Beaton, impatient of the elder's ponderosity. Another sort of man would have sympathized with the Southerner's willingness to talk of himself, and led him on to speak of his plans and ideals.

Whatever-your-name-is?" she asked sharply, less because she resented what he said than because she was strung to a wire edge. His troubled gaze took in again her slim girlishness. The frequency of danger had made him proof against fear for himself, but just now he was very much afraid for her. Hard man as he was, he had the Southerner's instinctive chivalry toward woman.

How Morgan and Hunt had laughed over "The Yellow Jackets," "The Dead Shots," "The Earthquakes," "The Chickasha Desperadoes," and "The Hell Roarers"! Regiments would bear the names of their commanders a singular instance of the Southerner's passion for individuality, as a man, a company, a regiment, or a brigade.

A man has a right to some privacy of room and of mind, and if the Southerner's struggle with himself was severe, at least it was of brief duration. Within half an hour, he was knocking at Polly Brewster's door. "PLEASE go 'way, whoever it is," answered a pathetically weary voice. "Miss Polly, it's Fitzhugh. I have a note for you." "Leave it in the saloon."