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"But your Reverence remembers he drew on me first and if he'd been sober enough to shoot straight it's meself, and not him, would be by now living out in the cemetery on the mesa; and another'd be serving your drinks to you across this bar. I had the rights on my side." "Precisely," says Charley. "You see, sir, it was a perfectly fair fight.
All don't get their ain, that's poz; if they did, another'd be sitting on George's throne; but that's treason, ye ken; and another'd be ruling in Wardhill's room, but that's treason, too; so I'd better be holding my tongue, or all the cats I've got in my bag will be jumping out and playing more pranks than either you or I, or Sir Marcus Wardhill to boot, will be able to stay."
It may work wonders. "'Hoor-rash-o! says the Major, comin' to a sittin' position. 'Hoor-rash-o! says he again, and then he went off like a pack of firecrackers. A sneeze wouldn't more'n get fairly started before another'd explode in the middle of it. And the Major was as powerful a sneezer as he was talker. Gee! them bass sneezes of his sounded like a freight-engine exhaust.
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