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She recognized him in spite of his discolored face, the result of a long, uninterrupted debauch. It was Bolles. As he caught her eye he smiled evilly and leered at her. "Wait, my beauty; wait. I'll kill that brother of yours one of these fine days, damn him!"
Just got it started hot in Portland, when biff! old Vogel telegraphs me. Well, I'll be saving instead of squandering. But it feels so good to squander!" "I have never had anything to squander," said Bolles, rather sadly. "You don't say! Well, old man, I hope you will. It gives a man a lot he'll never get out of spelling-books. Are you cold? Here."
"Brass will look just the same anywhere," said Drake. "Brass!" screamed Uncle. "Brass your eye!" But the buccaroos, plainly glad for distraction, took the woolly old scolding man with them. Drake shouted that if getting cheated cheered them, by all means to invest heavily, and he returned alone to his fire, where Bolles soon joined him.
I was only just making a little merry over this casualty. No, he don't mind me to that extent, except when he's sober. Look at him!" Half-past was returning with his friends. Quite evidently they had all found the trail. "Uncle Pasco is a nice old man!" pursued Drake. "I haven't got my gun on. Have you?" "Yes," said Bolles, but with a sheepish swerve of the eye. Drake guessed at once.
"You don't appreciate Bolles." "From what you tell of him," said Brock, "I'll examine him more careful." Seeing their boss, the sparrow-hawk, back in his place, flanked with supporters, and his gray eye indifferently upon them, the buccaroos grew polite to oppressiveness.
The warming day, and Indian Creek well behind them, brought Drake to whistling again, but depression sat upon the self-accusing Bolles. Even when they sighted the Owyhee road below them, no cheerfulness waked in him; not at the nearing coffee, nor yet at the companionable tinkle of sleigh-bells dancing faintly upward through the bright, silent air.
C. H. Bolles, at their head, that it is not quite prudent to use the negative pole in hand for diagnosis, lest we possibly contract the disease from the patient; since, in that case, the current runs from the patient to the practitioner. They think it safer to use the positive pole in hand; so letting the current run from the practitioner to the patient.
"Barnacle," said young Wickert wittily. "Something like that, anyway. Bannsocker, maybe. Guess he's some sort of a Swede." "Well, I only hope he doesn't clear out some night with his trunk on his back and leave poor Mrs. Brashear to whistle," declared Mrs. Bolles piously. The worn face of the landlady, with its air of dispirited motherliness, appeared in the doorway. "Mr.
Then he cursed the laggard Italians, and mourned that a year and a half must pass before he could sell their votes again. Bolles contracted for Italian labor and controlled something more than eight hundred votes. McQuade sublet various small contracts to him, and in return used the Italians during elections.
The wary Drake shook his head warningly at Mr. Bolles to keep off that subject, and he glanced in the direction of slumbering Uncle Pasco. Uncle Pasco was quite aware of all this. "I wouldn't take another lonesome job so soon," pursued Drake, "but I want the money. I've been working eleven months along the Owyhee as a sort of junior boss, and I'd earned my vacation.
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