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Updated: June 24, 2025
But she wasn't troo to me, an' married another feller. I was too much a sport to kill him. But thet low-down trick rankled in my breast. Gurls is strange. I've never stopped wonderin' how any gurl who has been hugged an' kissed by one man could marry another. But matoor experience teaches me thet sich is the case." The cowboys roared; Helen and Mrs.
"She wus the daughter; the white one?" "Sure; he hed the other by law. Wal', when they all got thar, nobody wus home, 'cept one o' the gurls, who claimed fer ter be Rene the one whut wus a nigger, thet Kirby owned. Nobody know'd which wus which, an' so they hed ter take her word for it.
"Lucky in love?... Sure!" answered Jim Cleve, with a mocking, reckless ring in his voice. "Funny, ain't thet, boys? Now there's the boss. Kells can sure win the gurls, but he's a pore gambler." Kells heard this speech, and he laughed with the others. "Hey, you greaser, you never won any of my money," he said. "Come an' set in, boss. Come an' see your gold fade away. You can't stop this Jim Cleve.
"Sure we can go faster on the bastes than we can on our hands, and, as for me knees, 'tis only in prayer that I ever use them." "Not in love, Barney?" Dick asked, innocently. "No, me darlin'. The gurls I love think more of me arms than me knees, and I do all of me pleadin' with me lips." "I should think they could hold their own," Jones remarked, dryly.
No wonder ye don't care to talk of the gurls they'll have none of ye." "We'll be satisfied if they'll have you, Barney. I'm sure that's magnanimous. But if your jalap takes as much time in working Old Schnapps as you take in explaining it, the war will be over, and we shall have seen none of it." "It's too great a conception to be hastily set forth. Give me time.
Chad started off on a trot and stopped suddenly, "I wish you'd please tell that little GURL" Chad pronounced the word with some difficulty "that I didn't mean nothin' callin' her a little gal. Ever'body calls gurls gals whar I come from." "All right," laughed the General.
The frigate, standing stately on, swung up alongside. Kit, rushing to the side, fended her off, as she slid past, huge above him. "Heave to!" he screamed, bumping against the sliding side. "Heave to!" A deep voice above him spoke. Kit looked up. A man, leaning over the side, was watching him bump stern-wards with a sardonic grin. "Bye-bye," he murmured deeply. "My love to the little gurls."
"One I owe to society; and which I have perhaps sinfully neglected bring a murderer to justice!" "Hush! Josh Stebbins for Heaven's sake, speak low! You know it isn't true but, hush! the gurls are 'thout. Don't let them hear sech talk!" "Perhaps," continued Stebbins, without heeding the interruption, "perhaps that murderer fancies he might escape. He is mistaken if he do.
We'll tend ter mountin' the gurls, an' then all ye'll hav' ter do will be ter lead off. Thar won't be no talkin' done yere. Better walk the hosses till yer git crost the crick, so the sojers won't hear yer. Got that?" "I reckon I hav', an' sense 'nough ter know it without bein' told. Did yer think I wanted ter be catched on this job?" "All right, but thar's no harm a tellin' yer.
We will even go further and assume that he is commissioned to write a musical comedy without any definite stellar personality in mind, and that when he has finished it the manager will do his share by providing a suitable cast. Is he in soft? No, dear reader, he is not in soft. You have forgotten the "Gurls."
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