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"It IS a boofy frock, isn't it, Nansome?" Patty craned her head over her shoulder, as she waited for her stepmother's response, which was only, "Yes." "Oh, my gracious, Nan! Enthuse! Don't you know half the fun in life is enthusiasm?" "What shall I say?" asked Nan, laughing. "Oh, say it's a peach! a hummer! a lallapaloosa!" "Patty, Patty! what language!"
If, as Joe Archer the storekeeper had suggested, Stobart had been forced to take a westerly track from Horseshoe Bend in order to find water and feed for the cattle, he could easily have sent word to Oodnadatta by the ordinary camel mail which passed the Bend once a month. Sax looked up and saw that his friend was awake. "What d'you reckon we ought to do, Boofy?" he asked, getting out of bed.
At first they were just a confused murmur, a sort of deep grumbling very far away; but now and again came a sharper sound, half like the crack of a pistol and half like two flat boards being banged together. "Yes. I'm sure of it. I'm sure of it. It's whips. I bet you it's whips. And that dust is kicked up by cattle. I know it is. Oh, Boofy, Boofy! P'raps it's my father."
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