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Updated: June 15, 2025
What do you make of it?" "A shootin' star, I declare!" said Andy Sudds. "Nothing of the kind," exclaimed Jack, quickly. "A star could not shoot up from the earth." "Wot's dat says somebody's a-shootin' at us?" gasped Washington White. "If dey punctuates our tire, we'll suah go down wid a big ker-smash!"
They er 'buzin' the wimmin an' killin' the childern; stidder carryin' out the law, they er gwine about a-shootin' an' a-murderin'. So fur, so good. Well, now, lemme tell you: the hawk 'a done lit once too much in the chicken-lot. This is a free country. I hain't a-layin' no blame on you. Me an' Sis stood by you when the boys s'ore they wuz a-gwine to rattle you up.
I never was much of a hand to git skeered. 'Tain't no use. I heard them guns a-shootin' while I was gettin' off them cars, and I see smoke a-comin' out of the depot, but I jest walked right along. Then I see son's face lookin' out through the window. I knowed him at oncet. He met me at the door, and squeezes me 'most to death.
"'What sort of a game is this, anyhow? says Dan Boggs, who, while we stands thar, has been pawin' over the Red Dog man's rifle. 'Looks like this vivacious party's plumb locoed. Yere's his hind-sights wedged up for a thousand yards, an' he's been a-shootin' of cartridges with a hundred an' twenty grains of powder into 'em.
Zip! "Guess there's a bee-tree somewhere around here, from the way the bees are buzzin'," said Si. "'Taint no bees," replied Shorty; "it's a mighty sight worse'n that. Them's bullets, Si Don't ye see the dumed galoots over yonder a-shootin' at us?" Si was no coward, and he was determined to show that he wasn't.
I'm goin' a-shootin'." Bully West drew his revolver and rode forward. The constable had disposed of his forces so that behind the cover of the sandstone boulders they commanded the approach. He had tried to persuade Jessie that this was not her fight, but a question from her had silenced him.
They jest come along a-yowlin', an' a-shootin' off'n their guns an' things, same as they allus do when they's on the war-path. Scalps, that's wot they's after. Scalps, no more an' no less. An' to think o' me at my time o' life a-fallin' a prey to Injuns, as you might say. Oh, if on'y my pore George D. Ransford was alive! He'd 'a' give 'em scalps.
"Why, there isn't much to tell that you haven't read in the papers probably. He came a-shootin' and was hit by a chair." "Was it you that hit him?" "Wouldn't I be justified?" he asked gently. "But did you?" For a moment he hesitated, then made up his mind swiftly. "Yes," he told her gravely. She winced. "You couldn't help it. How did you come to be there?" "I just dropped in." "Alone?" "Yes."
When Ajax and I first made his acquaintance he was digging post-holes. The day, a day in September, was uncommonly hot. I said, indiscreetly: "Mr. Spooner, why do you dig post-holes?" With a queer glint in his small, dull grey eyes he replied, curtly: "Why are you boys a-shootin' quail hey? 'Cause ye like to, I reckon. Fer the same reason I like ter dig post-holes. It's jest recreation to me."
Es Sam Hayes said, if we shoot, we 'll be a-shootin' up Gulpin County. An' yet, by thunder, we 've plumb got ter do it, er git off the earth. I jest don't see no other way. Biff, he won't care a damn how he gits us, so he gits us afore we have any chance ter turn the tables on him, an' shift the law over ter our side. Hayes can't help any, fer he 's out o' his head. Consequent, it's up ter us.
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