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Updated: June 10, 2025
I don't get the point of this thing, from any angle. But we run our kennels on the square. And I can promise the boss'll either send back your check or send Rothsay Princess to you and take Lass back." Two days later, while all The Place was still mulling over the mystery, a letter came for the Master from Lass's home town.
They've been looking in their packs for their note-books with the descriptions of these sections in them. Then they piled out for the boss. If I know anything at all, the boss'll make tracks for Detroit." "W'ot you do?" asked Injin Charley curiously. "I got to get to Detroit before they do; that's all." Instantly the Indian became all action.
If the boss'll excuse me, me mate's dead-set against a woman doing things for him. If you wouldn't mind not coming. He'd rather have me. Me and him's been mates this seven years. The boss 'll understand."
"Go 'way, or Boss'll come and beat Beelzebub!" He spoke the white man's language; it was the only one he knew, but there was something curiously unfamiliar, something almost bestial in the way he spat his words. Again Sybil was conscious of a wild desire to escape before sheer horror paralysed her limbs, but she fought and conquered the impulse. "Boss won't beat you any more," she said.
I couldn't spare a mouthful for the General o' the army even. Let your Colonel or Major sendout men to git chickens for himself." "My boss'll be powehful disappunted," said the negro, with his big, white eyes full of tears. "He's powehful weak, foh sartin. A leetle sup ob broth'd do him an everlastin' world ob good. He ain't no Kunnel or Majah.
Travelin', as we're goin' to, I can pick up bargains. An' if the Boss'll talk, I can make the regular horse-buyer's commissions. He'll have to trust me with a lot of money, though, which most likely he won't, knowin' all his scabs I beat up." "If he could trust you to run his stable, I guess he isn't afraid to let you handle his money," Saxon said.
The boss'll raise peelin's over this, Chance. It ain't like to set good with him." He noticed that Chance frequently scratched at his collar as though it irritated him. Finally he slipped his fingers under the collar. "Suthin' got ketched in here," he said, unbuckling the strap. Tied inside the collar was a folded piece of paper.
Then it was that Jim greeted the two cow-punchers. "The boss'll be pleased, boys. Glad to see you back, Dutchy, and you, too, Joe. Guess you'll have things to report so " The boys were out of their saddles and loosening their cinchas. They eyed him curiously without attempting to acknowledge his greeting. The rest of the men had gathered round.
"I says to myself, de boss ain't got no time to be gittin' after dem himself. He's too busy dese days wit' jollyin' along de swells. So, it's up to me, I says, 'cos de boss'll be tickled to deat', all right, all right, if we can git away wit' dem. So, I " Jimmy gave tongue with an energy that amazed his faithful follower.
The entry he made was as follows: "Louis C. Googe thirty-four United States." The manager glanced at it. "That's a common enough name in Maine and these parts," he said. Then he pointed through the window. "That's the shed over there the middle one. The boss'll give you some tools till you get yours." "Thank you." The man put on his cap and went out.
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