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He must up stakes an' move his camp; an' if he calls on another shindig after he's warned, we-alls takes our ponies an' our ropes an' yanks his outfit up by the roots. A gent of his enterprise, however, will come to a dead halt; an' his persecutions of Hamilton will cease. "'An' you-all calls this yere a free American outfit! says my Colonel, mighty scornful, when Jack Moore notifies him.
The "Flying Fool" smiled sweetly. "Why, Siddons, I wouldn't kid you-all about that sort o' thing," he drawled. A suppressed growl arose from the other pilots. "What is he coming here for?" young Edouard Fouche demanded, knowing the answer but anxious to have it brought out in the open where it could be attacked and vilified by all.
Slim grinned sheepishly. In his embarrassment he rubbed one foot on his other leg. "Well I ain't never that is " he stammered, "Bud, if you-all don't mind," he boldly asserted, after his bashfulness had waned, "I reckon I will play one little bet on the red." The Sheriff never did anything in a small way. The kiss he gave her full on the lips was a resounding one.
Just so were these men, empire-builders in the Arctic Light, boastful and drunken and clamorous, winning surcease for a few wild moments from the grim reality of their heroic toil. Modern heroes they, and in nowise different from the heroes of old time. "Well, fellows, I don't know what to say to you-all," Daylight began lamely, striving still to control his whirling brain.
His usually terse speech was becoming diffuse and irrelevant, while vacant laughter issued from his lips. Yancy was apparently unaffected by the good cheer of which he had partaken, but Murrell's dark face was flushed. The Scratch Hiller's ability to carry his liquor exceeded anything he had anticipated. "You-all run along to bed, Nevvy," said Yancy, as Hannibal entered the room.
He broke off abruptly, then added: "Ye went away from hyar last night, an' didn't git in twell atter sun-up I just heered the news, an' come ter look fer ye." "Air you-all 'lowin' thet I shot them shoots from the laurel?" inquired Samson, quietly. "Ef we-all hain't 'lowin' hit, Samson, we're plumb shore thet Jesse Purvy's folks will 'low hit.
It's in a poker game; an' the barkeep brings the dealer a cold deck onder a tray whereon he purveys the drinks. Which the discovery of this yere solecism, as you-all well imagines, arouses interest, earnest an' widespread like I deescribes. I counts up when the smoke lifts an' finds that seven has sought eternal peace. Commonly two is the number; three bein' quite a shipment.
"Burning daylight, you-all Stewart River hunchers! Burning daylight! Burning daylight! Burning daylight!" This time the trail was easier. It was better packed, and they were not carrying mail against time. The day's run was shorter, and likewise the hours on trail.
"Nacherally the boys comes with 'em. Their winter sign-camps breaks up an' the riders turns south with the cattle. No, they can't do nothin'; you-all couldn't turn 'em or hold 'em or drive 'em back while the storm lasts. But it's the dooty of the punchers to keep abreast of their brands an' be thar the moment the blizzard abates. "It's shore a spectacle!
"'Why, shore, says Peets, enterin' into the sperit of the hoax, an' deemin' it a splendid joke; 'be you-all the maverick who's on that quarter-section of mine? "'Which I'm Colonel Coyote Clubbs, says Coyote, bowin' low while his lips trembles, 'an' I'm at your service. "'Well, says Peets, 'it don't make much difference about your name, all you has to do is hit the trail.
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