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Updated: May 26, 2025
He proved to be one of those much-sought freaks in the world of mechanics, a natural filer. The uninspired filer, unaware of the niceties of the art, saws up and down, whereas the instinctive filer, like Carl, draws his file evenly across the metal, and the result fits its socket truly.
This brought the clerk out into the night; and there in the light streaming from the tent door lay the figure of a man crosswise and face down on a burro's back. "Ye see, I know Hank some time," explained Basil Filer simply. "And jest last night a friend o' mine he camped with me, and said Hank was up to his old devilment ag'in.
The Waste, the Waste! Trotty stood aghast, and his legs shook under him. He seemed to have starved a garrison of five hundred men with his own hand. 'Who eats tripe? said Mr. Filer, warmly. 'Who eats tripe? Trotty made a miserable bow. 'You do, do you? said Mr. Filer. 'Then I'll tell you something. You snatch your tripe, my friend, out of the mouths of widows and orphans.
Lucy had brought from San Francisco her leopard-skin rug, the overstuffed chairs, and her other extravagances in house furnishings. Their contrast with the new pine walls of the cabin produced an effect quite startling and bizarre. Basil Filer saw none of it, however. He became very drowsy when he was seated. Al Drummond winked at Lucy.
And the baby girl, Jean Prince, was none other than the magnetic, dark-haired woman who now drove jerkline to Ragtown and numbered her admirers by the thousand Jerkline Jo, Queen of the Outland Camps. "They was three of us at first," narrated Filer in a shaky voice. "Three of us and Baby Jean. Baby Jean and me and Len Prince and 'The Chink. And that makes four.
It's her jackass of a father that's up there!" cried Mr. Filer, with his hand on the latch of the door, which the policeman had allowed him to approach. "Is he asking for a doctor?" the latter inquired dispassionately. "You're the sort of doctor he'll want, if he doesn't produce the girl! You don't mean to say they've locked themselves in? What the plague are they after?"
"We've got to split the haul four ways as it is," he pointed out. "And that bo that helped us get Filer away Stool he smells a rat and is keeping an eye single to horning in on the clean-up. Lucy, I wouldn't attack Jo's bunch of roughnecks with less than a dozen men; and you can bet your young life our gang is too big as it is. Keep the home fires burning, I'll say!"
Nothing could have been more tender, more exquisite, than the way she put her appeal upon the ground of simple charity, kindness to the great good-natured, childish public. "Miss Chancellor may reward them in any way she likes. Give them back their money and a little present to each." "Money and presents? I should like to shoot you, sir!" yelled Mr. Filer.
Besides, time Muta'd packed him to Ragtown, Hank he'd spoil. Muta she never did like Tehachapi Hank, nohow." The following day the mortal remains of Tehachapi Hank were brought into Ragtown, together with his self-confessed killer Basil Filer. The constable for Ragtown had one now took Filer in charge and hurried him to the county seat in Twitter-or-Tweet's machine.
Look at me! 'Just come from jail, said Mr. Fish. 'Just come from jail, said Will. 'And neither for the first time, nor the second, nor the third, nor yet the fourth. Mr. Filer was heard to remark testily, that four times was over the average; and he ought to be ashamed of himself. 'Gentlefolks! repeated Will Fern. 'Look at me! You see I'm at the worst.
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