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Updated: May 16, 2025
Not improbably he had not seen a great many bullet-marked men. "Jim! the long-haired fool didn't try to draw on you!" exclaimed Snake Anson, astounded. Wilson neither spoke nor ceased his pacing. "What was it over?" added Anson, curiously. "He hit the gurl," replied Wilson. Then there were long-drawn exclamations all around, and glance met glance.
And he covered his face with his hands, and sat down and wept. Never shall I forget the sound which rose at that sight; it was not a cry of woe, neither was it the howl of despair, nor the sob of sorrow, nor the gurl of wrath, nor the moan of anguish, but a deep and dreadful rustling of hearts and spirits, as if the angel of desolation, in passing by, had shaken all his wings.
You wouldn't go back on me!" implored Anson, with uplifted hands, in a dignity of pathos. "I'm losin' my haid, too, an' you shore might as well knock it in, an' you'll hev to before I'll stand you murderin' thet pore little gurl you've drove crazy." "Jim, I was only mad," replied Anson. "Fer thet matter, I'm growin' daffy myself. Aw! we all need a good stiff drink of whisky."
'He ain't home, says the gurl. 'Whin'll he be back? says oi. 'Niver, says she, shlammin' the dure in me face; and Mike Finn wid a certifikut uv election for um in his pocket!" "A certificate of election?" cried Perkins. "And he wouldn't see you?" "He would not." "You were to an extent the balance of power, then?"
He could hardly wait till noon to saddle the sorrel, to ride over to his mother's. "Aw, cowboy, hug thet gurl fer me!" sang Blinky, with ecstatic upward gaze. "Shore she's put the devil in you. An' this heah outfit is steppin' high!" On the way out to the farm, halfway beyond the outskirts of town, Pan met his father rushing up the road. At sight of Pan he almost collapsed.
We shall return home all the happier, having escaped from so many dangers, dear father!" "Ah, Marian, gurl, you don't know all we hev now no home to go to!" "The same you ever had," interposed I, "if you will consent to accept it. The old cabin on Mud Creek will hold us all till we can build a larger one.
At which last conceit she laughed softly. Because, for a "pore wurrkin' gurl," Miss Weir was fairly well content with her lot. She had no one dependent on her a state of affairs which, if it occasionally leads to loneliness, has its compensations. Her salary as a stenographer amply covered her living expenses, and even permitted her to put by a few dollars monthly. She had grown up in Granville.
Since 'way last fall no luck nothin' but the wust end of everythin'. I ain't blamin' anybody. I'm the boss. It's me thet's off." "Snake, shore it was the gurl deal you made," rejoined Wilson, who had listened. "I told you. Our troubles hev only begun. An' I can see the wind-up. Look!" Wilson pointed to where the girl stood, her hair flying wildly all over her face and shoulders.
"Fine woman that, sir," he remarked, when she was gone, to anyone who might wish to receive the statement. "Well," said one of the men, "I should just think it." "She seems," said Dr. Nash, stiffly, "to be a good girl and a clever one." "She isn't just now what I'd call a gurl," said the man who had answered first.
You're more practised in thar ways than me. Though a good score o' year older than yurself, I hain't hed much to do wi' weemen, 'ceptin' Injun squaws an' now an' agin a yeller gurl down by San Antone. But them scrapes wan't nothin' like thet Walt Wilder heve got inter now." "A scrape! What sort of a scrape? I hope you haven't " "Ye needn't talk o' hope, Frank Hamersley.
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