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Updated: June 5, 2025
"I done said so forty times," Thompson declared, peevishly. "How many times have I gotta repeat it?" "As many times as yo're asked," put in the sheriff, sharply. "Didja see anybody get hurt have a accident or something while you were here, Thompson?" Racey bored on. Thompson shook an impatient head. "Nobody got hurt or had a accident."
However, since his former visit had resulted in a rebuff that still rankled, he paused outside the kitchen door, which was slightly ajar, and listened. He did this idly, and with no hope of hearing anything interesting or helpful. "Snakes!" Della exclaimed. "Didja say the poor man was seein' snakes, Mrs. Cullen?" "No, Della," Mrs. Cullen returned dolorously; "jist one.
"Shore, that would 'a' been a bright thing to do now, wouldn't it?" "What didja do with the knife?" "Dropped it through a knothole in the wall. The only way they'll ever get hold of it is by tearing the building down." "Jack Harpe, if he is the feller, will know you found it and try again." "Shore. We can't help that. One thing, we'll know before the day is over whether it is Jack Harpe or not."
She daintily and unhurriedly hung her waist over the back of a chair. Then she turned up the lamp, removed the pins from her abundant hair, shook it down, and began to brush it calmly and carefully. " you!" snarled Bull, advancing to the table where he was within range of Racey's eyesight. "I spoke to you! What didja do it for?" She raised her head and looked at him, the brush poised in one hand.
"Whatell didja kick me for?" snarled Bull. "'Kick you for?" Racey repeated, stupidly. "Yeah, kick me," said Bull. "No damn man can kick me and me not take notice." "Dunno as I blame you. Dunno as I do. If any damn man kicks you, Bull, you got a right to drill him every time. And you think I kicked you?" "I know you did." "You know I did, huh? Did you see me do it?"
Was it a foreman you wanted or a gunman? And what did Racey mean about Jack Harpe a-bearing down on you so hard, huh?" "Nothing, nothing, nothing a-tall," Lanpher replied, irritably. "If Racey didn't mean nothing by it, what did yore eyes flip for and why didja shuffle yore feet?" "Whatell business is it of yores?" burst out the goaded manager. "None," Alicran replied, calmly.
"Didja know he was a friend of Nebraska's?" he asked, watching her face keenly. She shook her head. "Nebraska knows a lot of folks," she said, indifferently. "He knows Punch-the-breeze Thompson, too." "Likely he would, knowing Nebraska. He belongs to Nebraska's bunch." "What does Nebraska do for a living?" "Everybody and anything. Mostly he deals a game in the Starlight."
Or didja sneak the Frisco account away from Brugger's Service when you were out West?" "Oh, no, got jugged that was all," says Oliver quite truthfully if tiredly and Mrs. Wimple crows at the jest with high laughter. Oliver marvels at the fact that everybody should seem to think it so humorous to be jailed. "Why, Crowie, you naughty little boy!
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