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"I ain't no comfort in talking about it, not at all, and I'd rayther not, if it's all one to you, Muster Fenwick." "I will not ask another question, but I'll repeat my own opinion, Mr. Brattle. I don't believe that he had anything more to do with the robbery or the murder, than I had." "I hope not, Muster Fenwick. Murder is a terrible crime.
In yonder," and Thornton's nod indicated the little room partitioned off from the larger for a private poker room while his eyes clung to Bedloe's. "Or outside. Anywhere." Again the Kid pondered. "I'm playin' poker," he said presently, very quietly. "An' I ain't playin' for fun.
The postmaster felt sorry for her and showed it. "It's easy," he declared. Then he gathered his opinions in a bunch, and metaphorically hurled them at her. "Where's the steel girders an' stone masonry?" he demanded. "It's just wood pine. Wher's the figures an' measurements? Who knows the breakin' strain o' them green logs? Maybe it's art, but it ain't architecture.
"Also," said Tish, cutting in sternly, "you took away my revolver, and left us helpless last night, and in peril of wild beasts." "Tourists ain't allowed to carry guns." He attempted to look injured, but Tish ignored him.
The others joined with him in his merriment over Fresno's discomfiture. "Weddin's ain't so frequent where I come from as they is in Californy." "It's the climate," answered Fresno, with a broad grin. "So you ain't never been at a weddin'?" asked Allen, who was looking for another opening to have more fun with Sage-brush.
Ain't that so, boss?" The grocer was sure it was so. "Neberdeless, mind you" here the orator brimmed his glass from the bottle and swallowed the contents with a dry eye "mind you, a roytious man, sech as ministers of de gospel and dere body- sarvants, can take a LEETLE for de weak stomach."
I ain't working for ye and I never have been no more than I ever worked for your mother. Every lick I ever done in this house I done for Linda and Doctor Strong and for nobody else. Half of this house and everything in it belongs to Linda, and it's a mortal short time till she's of age to claim it.
I was sayin' the same to neighbor Allen last week, an' he agreed though he's wuss off than me, for he has a family back in Litchfield an' is under anxiety all the time to bring them here, if the Yorkers but leave us in peace. As for me well, a tough old knot like me ain't fit to marry an' settle down. I'm wuss nor an Injin." It is doubtful if the boy heard half this monologue.
Busily coiling the rope, Tad paid no attention to the taunt; he hung the rope on his saddle horn and then methodically unhitched Pinkeye. "Going to hang yerself?" jeered another. "That's all a mutton puncher's worth. I guess." Tad felt his face flush. He paused long enough to turn and look straight into the eyes of the speaker. "My, but ain't our little boy spunky!" called the fellow in derision.
"Why, ye never tole me ez ye hed seen su'thin' strange in the woods, Andy," he exclaimed, feeling aggrieved, thus balked of a sensation. "An' the old woman ain't dead, nohow," he continued reasonably, "but air strengthenin' up amazin' fast."
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