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D'ye mind my sayin', 'I never knowed as you was a harse'? Ha! ha! Ye couldn't say much to that, could 'ee? And when I think o' you standin' in yard jist now, wavin' the teapot and tuckin' the little pig under your arm! 'Bottle-feedin' suckin'-pigs weren't in the marriage contract, says you. Ho! ho! ho! Whatever put it i' your head to say that, I can't think."
"The horses o' Kansas are behind me with their multitoodinous thunderin' hooves, an' we say, simply but grandly, that we take our stand with all four feet on the inalienable rights of the horse, pure and simple, the high-toned child o' nature, fed by the same wavin' grass, cooled by the same ripplin' brook yes, an' warmed by the same gen'rous sun as falls impartially on the outside an' the inside of the pampered machine o' the trottin'-track, or the bloated coupe-horses o' these yere Eastern cities.
He's wavin' his arm." This was the case. The Chinaman, for some reason, seemed to wish to attract the attention of the newcomers. He stopped short, and waited for Ben and Bradley to come up. "Who are you, my yeller friend?" asked Bradley, when he was near enough to be heard. "My name Ki Sing." "Glad to hear it.
That don't feel like teeth, though. Maybe he busted a shaft, an' it pricked him." "An' I come to you from Kansas, wavin' the tail o' friendship to all an' sundry, an' in the name of the uncounted millions o' pure-minded, high-toned horses now strugglin' towards the light o' freedom, I say to you, Rub noses with us in our sacred an' holy cause. The power is yourn.
The rooms are about six feet high, and they wuz like me in one thing they didn't care so much for ornament as they did for solid foundation. The only ornament I see in any of the rooms wuz some kinder wavin' streaks of red paint. But, oh! how solid the housen wuz, how firm the underpinnin'.
Steve Nash described it to the wounded men, who had dragged themselves half erect. "He's walkin' right toward the house, wavin' the white rag. They ain't goin' to shoot. He's goin' around the side of the house. He's stopped there under the trees." "Where?" "At that grave of his wife under the two trees. He waits there like he expected Bard to come out to him.
"'Ask the broken-hearted wife, says she, 'if there be ony ill in a dram ask the starving family ask the jailer and the gravedigger ask the doctor and the minister o' religion ask where ye see roups o' furniture at the cross, or the auctioneer's flag wavin' frae the window ask a deathbed ask eternity, David Stuart, and they will tell ye if there be ony ill in a dram.
Folsom was on his knees, dyin', wavin' his gun, whisperin' in fiendish glee that he had done for me. When he saw Jack an' remembered he shook so with fury that he scattered blood all over. An' he took long aim at Jack, tryin' to steady his gun. He couldn't, an' he missed, an' then fell over dead with his head on Jack's knees. That left the red-bearded rustler, who had hid behind the chimney.
'E's gone off in 'is shirt an' trousies, swearin' tremenjus gone down the road in the palanquin, wavin' 'is legs out o' windy." "Yes," said I, "but where?" "Now you arx me a question. 'E said 'e was goin' to sell that palanquin, but from observations what happened when I was stuffin' 'im through the door, I fancy 'e's gone to the new embankment to mock at Dearsley.
He seemed some sheepish when he see me, an' he said, hasty, that he'd just got there, an' it come over me like a flash't he'd come to see Elspie off. An' I marched a-past him without hardly a word. "We wasn't mor'n out o' the house when we heard a shout, an' there come Silas an' Timothy, tearin' along full tilt in the store delivery wagon, wavin' their arms.
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