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"She are the daughter o' Holt the squatter the same whar you say you're a-goin'. Thar's another, as I told ye; but she's a younger un. Her name's Lilian." "A pretty name. The older sister was very beautiful you say?" "I niver set eyes on the like o' her." "Does the younger one resemble her?" "Ain't a bit like her different as a squ'll from a coon." "She's more beautiful, then?"
It's clur enuf: ye'll acknowledge that, won't ye?" "No," I replied in a firm voice. "Ye won't? The hell, ye won't? Look hyur, stranger! I'm in airnest. Look in my eye, an' see if I ain't! I gi' ye warnin' then, that ef ye're not out o' this clarin' in six jumps o' a squ'll, you'll niver go out o' it a livin' man. You see that ere stump?
Beef or mutton?" asked one, as they began to eat. "Wolf-mutton, I reckin," was the reply. "It's dog-gone good eatin', I say; peels off as tender as squ'll." "It's some'ut like goat, ain't it?" "Mine tastes more like dog to me." "It ain't bad at all; better than poor bull any day." "I'd like it a heap better if I war sure the thing hadn't been up to yon varmint on the rocks."
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