Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 10, 2025
On one side of the shanty was a low platform of hewn logs, which constituted the proprietor's couch when he slept; on another was the door, on the third were confusedly piled Buffle's culinary utensils, and on the fourth was a fireplace, whose defective draft had been the agent of the fine frescoing of soot perceptible on the ceiling.
Now, while there were but few women in the camp, the sight of a single woman was not at all unusual. Yet, as she raised her vail, Buffle's revolver fell from his hands, and the other players laid down their cards; the partner of the guilty man being so overcome as to lay down his hand face upward. Then they all stared, but not one of them spoke; they wanted to, but none knew how to do it.
"Gentlemen," said the barkeeper, "there's no more drinking at this bar to-night until until I say so." No one murmured. No one swore. No one suggested a game. An old enemy of Buffle's happened in, but that worthy, instead of feeling for his pistol, quietly left the leaning-post, and bowed his enemy into it.
At the fashionable hour of two o'clock at night, Mr. Buffle was entertaining some friends at his residence; or, to use the language of the mines, "there was a game up to Buffle's."
Buffle's rounds the Major spruced himself up and went humming a tune up and down the street with one eye almost obliterated by his hat there are not expressions in Johnson's Dictionary to state.
At the end of another fortnight there was a procession formed at Fat Pocket Gulch; two horses, one wearing a side-saddle, were brought to the door of Buffle's old house, and Mrs. Berryn and her husband mounted them; they were soon joined by Buffle and Muggy.
And out came Buffle's pistol. The man saw his danger, and, springing at Buffle with the agility of a cat, snatched the pistol and threw it on the ground; in an instant Buffle's hand had firmly grasped the man by his shirt-collar, and, the horse taking fright, Buffle, a second later, found in his hand a torn piece of red flannel, a chain, and a locket, while the man lay on the ground.
Buffle's being round the corner. Presently what should we see but some people running down the street straight to our door, and then the Major directing operations in the busiest way, and then some more people and then carried in a chair similar to Guy Fawkes Mr. Buffle in a blanket! My dear the Major has Mr.
One night Buffle's horse galloped into Deadlock Ridge, and the rider, hailing the first man he met, inquired the way to the saloon. "I don't know," replied the man. "Come, no foolin' thar," said Buffle, indignantly. "I don't know, I tell you I don't drink." "Hang yer!" roared Buffle, in honest fury at what seemed to him the most stupendous lie ever told by a miner, "I'll teach yer to lie to me."
The monkey answers without stopping "O here's a lark! Old Buffle's been setting his house alight to prevent its being found out that he boned the Taxes. Hurrah! Fire!"
Word Of The Day
Others Looking