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Updated: June 23, 2025
'Cause ef yuh'd gi' me a free hand thar'd be a dozen er so less bohunks the fus' night fer supper. I jes' natcherl hate hidin' my feelin's." He repeated the sigh more hopelessly. "Yuh'd never git the work did; thar ain't bohunks enough in the world." Torrance clutched his hand; here in an unexpected quarter was a man to his liking.
Mahon was almost satisfied that the ammunition would last out any siege the bohunks were likely to undertake. A few minutes' contemplation of the stable exposure convinced him that the attackers could gain nothing there. To fire the stable would only rob them of the sole protection to the rear, and, with what wind there was against it, fire would not spread to the house.
And after a time, the very shadows, and the secrecy breathed by the trees seemed to hint at revelations just round the corner. Down in the camp half a thousand bohunks, with brutal murder in their hearts, would, under Police eye, climb to their bunks as innocent in appearance as kittens. There in the woods, freed from observation, the bohunk was more apt to discard his mask of stupidity.
The Indian pointed toward the camp. "Not likely! We could hardly see you ourselves. You better drop a postcard next time. I was just in the middle of a dream that the trestle was done and I was cashing the check in Winnipeg in thousand-dollar bills, after polishing off a few bohunks for a real bang-up finale.
It was certain, therefore, that the danger lay in front, where the forest across the grade, and the elevation of the grade itself, protected the besiegers. The bohunks would be slow to expose themselves. Indeed, there was no need that they should, since escape was impossible. Not only was there nowhere to flee, but without its defenders the trestle would be at the mercy of the I.W.W.
Yet she spoke cheerfully. "It wouldn't be just just right to go till the trestle's done, Pete, dear." He looked at her sharply. It was the conviction he had been fighting many a day that it seemed to be only his own had made it so much harder for him. From the silence he had forced on himself of late he spoke fiercely: "That damned Pole! We can't let him win. We got to lick them bohunks."
He crawled painfully to the very back of the tender and fired again. "In case they thort the first was a misfire," he growled, "or fright." After a minute or two he began to grin. "Unless them bohunks is bigger fools than they need be, I guess yer friend 'Uggins is due for a rosy wreath from his friend Murphy when the sky clears."
I'll go gather up the Bohunks and start. You better 'phone up to Pinnacle that Casey's on the road and tell 'em he says it's his road's long's he's on it. They'll know what I mean." Pinnacle did know, and waited on the sidewalk that afforded a view of the long hill where the road curled down around the head of the gulch and into town.
That's the worst of marrying a woman every man falls in love with. The only redeeming feature is that we've lots of room; there's bedroom space enough for half Medicine Hat though I wouldn't recommend it to my friends. . . . I believe bohunks do bathe they must have a human trait or two but I've never happened to see it.
"Just the same, when this thing's off my hands and there's nothing to blow up but a pile of dirt, I'm going through the camp with an arsenal on me, and I'll splash blood over the ugly place till it looks like a Chicago beef-cannery. It would save transportation expenses, too. When the last shovel's dumped and the Police gone home to supper I'm going to boil over and roast a dozen bohunks alive "
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