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Updated: May 17, 2025
C'mon, let's drift." The face of the man who called himself Percy was white and strained as they urged their tired mounts southward. They skirted the western end of the ridge by which they had gained the wide valley and continued on, carefully scanning the landscape in all directions for indications of pursuit.
She sat down limply on the ground. Racey started back across the stringer to get the horse. He hurried, too. That posse they had seen in the valley! There was no telling where it was. It might be four miles away, or four hundred yards. "C'mon, feller," said Racey, picking up the reins of the tired horse. "And for Gawd's sake pick up yore feet!
C'mon!" His feet were already in motion toward the battlefield, with Penrod and Herman hurrying in his wake. Onward they sped, and Duke was encouraged by the sight and sound of these reinforcements to increase his own outrageous clamours and to press home his attack. But he was ill-advised.
Thompson, it appeared, did understand. He grunted sulkily. "We'll have to give Peaches Austin a show," resumed the stranger. "Nemmine giving me a argument, Punch. I said I'd use Austin. C'mon, le's go get a drink." The three men moved away. Racey Dawson cautiously eased his long body up from behind the pony.
But " "We'll tip him in plenty of time," said Mike with authority. "In time for him to play along, but not for a leak to spoil things. Okay?" "I'll make the bargain," Sally assured him, "if it can be made." Mike nodded. He drained his coffee cup and slipped down from his chair. "Come on, Chief! C'mon, Haney!" He led them out of the room.
It's the hootch. Back-action kick to it. Ain't that right?" "That's right," nodded Casey and he added, grinning more foolishly, "Darn right, that's right! Back-action kick bet your life." Joe pushed the gun inside his waistband and crooked his finger at Casey, beckoning mysteriously. "C'mon an' I'll show yuh how it's made," he invited with heavy enthusiasm.
He's hotter than a wet wolf 'cause you didn't turn up here on time." "I ain't afraid of Jack." "'Course you ain't. But you know how Jack is. Even if it don't come to a showdown, there'll be words passed. And I don't wanna run any risk of you quitting the outfit. Every man is needed. You be sensible and stick here with McFluke three-four days like I say, and after that c'mon in to Farewell.
Johnny went on, "I've seen you in a lot of glad rags but this tops them all. Looks like you'd just come from your own kitchenette." Mazie bit her lip to hide her confusion. Then blushing, she said: "Johnny, I'm hungry. When do we eat?" "I know a nice place right round the corner. C'mon. Where's Cio-Cio-San?" "Gone to the Emergency hospital." "Hanada," Johnny exclaimed. "I must find out about him."
I was only gonna ride along with you part way." Racey shook his head. "Wouldn't be sensible, that wouldn't. Somebody might see you. You come along later like I told you. Me and Rack will travel together." "I was goin' to the 88," protested Rack. "Yo're mistaken," Racey told him, firmly. "Yo're going to Farewell with me. Ain't you?" "I s'pose so," Rack Slimson capitulated. "Then c'mon.
He allowed Marie to lead him across the sidewalk and into the pot-black shadow between Tom Kane's house and an empty shack. But here in the thick darkness he paused and looked back to see whether Swing Tunstall were following. Swing was not. He was entering the hotel in company with Windy Taylor. Marie jerked at his arm. "C'mon," she urged, impatiently. "Gonna take root, or what?"
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