"That's the reason you was so willin' to sign all the papers that wanted Will Bransford's signature. I sure was a boxhead for not tumblin' to that." He laughed, meeting Mary's gaze and holding it. "Talkin' of throwin' up the deal," he said. "That couldn't be. Dale an' Silverthorn an' Maison an' their gang of cutthroats couldn't make me give it up. There's only one person could make me do that.
Later, he locked the door, pulled the chair over near a window from which he got a good view of the frowning butte at the edge of the level and stared out, filled with a sensation of complete disgust. "Hell," he said, after a time, "I'm sure a triple-plated boxhead, an' no mistake!" Sanderson did not sleep.
"Yes, my boy, now she'll be more cross than ever. It's a very bad job, Nat, and I don't like to see you show such a temper as that." "I'm very sorry, Uncle Joe," I said humbly. "I didn't mean to fly out like that. It's just like Jem Boxhead at our school." "Does he fly out into tempers like that, Nat?" "Yes, uncle, often."
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