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Updated: May 4, 2025
"That is good," she said. "And, if not for money, for a woman one of that kind of woman they would shoot a man?" Sucatash blanched. "What are you drivin' at, ma'am?" "They will kill for me, for money or if that is not enough for a woman; such a woman as I am. Will they not, Monsieur Sucatash?" "Kill who?" He knew the answer, though, before she spoke: "Louisiana!"
An' can't you feel it's gettin' hot?" "Supposin' it is April?" queried Lash slowly. "Well, what I'm drivin' at is it's about time you all was hittin' the trail back to Forlorn River, before the waterholes dry out." "Laddy, I reckon we'll start soon as you're able to be put on a hoss." "Shore that 'll be too late."
An' when I got that plaguy front door open, he was jest drivin' away; an' I might ha' hollered till I was black in the face, an' then I couldn't ha' made him hear." "I dunno what to say, nor what not to," remarked Miss Dyer, to her corner. "If I speak, I'm to blame; an' so I be if I keep still." The other old lady had thrown herself into a chair, and was looking wrathfully before her.
But I don't think he had any hand in it with Swan to run him in on you, if that's what you're drivin' at." "It never crossed my mind," said Mackenzie, but not with his usual regard for the truth. "I don't like him, and I never did like him, but you've got to hand it to him for grit and nerve." "Has he got over the lonesomeness?" "Well, he's got a right to if he ain't." "Got a right to?
"All we can use," says I. "And we're eatin' the he hens whenever we want 'em. Ducks, too." "How clever!" says Basil. "But you Americans are always so good at whatever you take up. And you such a hard drivin' business man, too! I don't see how you manage it." "Oh, it comes easy enough once you get the hang of it," says I. "As a matter of fact, I'm only just startin' in.
Anyhow, the hand of God was on him, an' he got it hot an' heavy. Accordin' to accounts, he sold out, an' give her the bulk o' the cash, an' then he travelled. Last year, out on the Namoi, a man told me he seen him bullock drivin' in the Bland country, seven year ago. It might be him, or it might n't. I don't know, an' I don't want to know; for he's done all the harm he could.
"I ain't no wooden-head, as some thinks I am," he blurted out, while his dull eyes flashed; "and, by gosh, I want that darn well understood between you and me, Mr. Gaston! I don't want any interference in my affairs; but as to what you're drivin' at, perhaps, I'll say this. I'm going to let Joyce have her head in reason." "You better," Gaston laughed unpleasantly.
What takes my time, though, is the way you ackchelly seem to be meanin' what you say! Why, I wouldn't turn a dog out a night like this, an' you'd let a delicate young girl go into the drivin' storm, a stranger, without a place to lay her head that is, for all you know. I could bet my life, without knowin' a thing about it, that the good Lord never let you have a daughter of your own.
Ye've jonced the senses clean out uv a score o' us." "Go to blazes!" shouts back Jehu, giving an extra crack to his whip. "Who'n the name o' John Rodgers ar' drivin' this omnybust, pilgrim? you or I?" "You'll floor a hoss ef ye don' mind sharp!" "Who'n thunder wants ye to pay fer et, ef I do?" rings back, tauntingly.
I hain't been drivin' a tin-cart for nothin' the last ten years. "How have you been enjoying yourself since you arrived?" "Oh, pretty well. I've been round seeing the lions, and came pretty near seeing the elephant at one of them Peter Funk places." "You did! Tell me about it." "You see I was walkin' along when a fellow came out of one of them places, and asked me if I wouldn't go in.
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