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Updated: May 28, 2025
"Look here, sir," he whispered, making pretence to great honesty; "I won't go for to deceive you p'r'aps that dog's stuffed wi' di'monds." "Do you reckon I'm a fool?" asked the man. "Well," said old Dan, "I never was good at calcerlations; but you search that dog, and p'r'aps you'll find somethin'."
"Faix, then, I'm jist as wise now as before ye begun to spake. I've no head for fagures whatsumdiver; an' to tell me that the strame is ninety-six miles long and three thousand miles broad at the mouth, and sich like calcerlations, is o' no manner o' use, and jist goes in at wan ear an' out at the tother."
I've no head for fagures whatsumdiver; an' to tell me that the strame is ninety-six miles long and three thousand miles broad at the mouth, and sich like calcerlations, is o' no manner o' use, and jist goes in at wan ear an' out at the tother."
"Not more than fifteen miles if it is that, 'cording ter my calcerlations," decided Pete. "Then we should arrive there by ten o'clock to-night." "About that time yep. That is, if none of ther stock give out beforehand." "Why do they call it the Haunted Mesa?" inquired Jack. "Some fool old Injun notion 'bout ghosts er spirits hauntin' it," rejoined Pete.
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