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Updated: May 12, 2025
"They can't hurt us with their lies," said Mr. Hennessy of our Western civilization. "We have th' guns an' we'll bate thim yet" "Yes," said Mr. Dooley, "an' 'twill be like a man who's had his house desthroyed be a cyclone gettin' up an' kickin' at th' air." "Be th' time th' Chinese gets through with this here job o' theirs," said Mr.
Miss Blake and her companion smiled and nodded, at which Stover, encouraged beyond measure, elaborated. "He's had a hist'ry, too. When he reaches man's real-estate the Injun agent ropes, throws, and hog-ties him, then sends him East to be cultivated. He spends four years kickin' a football " Speed interrupted, with an exclamation of genuine interest.
"Boy," he said, "they're a-givin' us a right fast run for our money; but we ain't whipped yet not by a long way! And if they do, well, it's a mighty big world, with mighty big mountains, and we'll strike it yet; but they haven't cleaned us out of the Cross, and can't as long as you and me are both kickin. They've got poor old Bells. They've tried to hand us a strike.
Mason nodded thoughtfully, his mouth puckered. "It's him, and half a dozen other fellers of the same stripe, who are kickin' up all this fracas. The most of 'em are yonder now, an' if it wus n't fer leavin' a prisoner unprotected, darn me if I wud n't like to mosey right down thar an' pound a little hoss sense into thet bunch o' cattle.
Why, they're grown women with families in America at her age." "Thank God they're not in England." "They will be some day, mater. They're kickin' over the traces more and more every day. Watch 'em in a year or two, I say, watch 'em. One time women kept on the pavement. Now they're out in the middle of the road and in thousands! Mark me! What ho!" "They are not women!" ejaculated Mrs.
"Him a kickin' yer ribs clean inter ye, an' a makin' ye run the ga'ntlet, an' here ye air a tryin' to save 'is life!" whined Oncle Jazon, "W'y man, I thought ye hed some senterments! Dast 'is Injin liver, I kin feel them kicks what he guv me till yit. Ventrebleu! que diable voulez-vous?" Clark simply pushed Beverley's pleadings aside as not worth a moment's consideration.
Why, wanst, whin Clancy was standin' up f'r Grogan's eighth, his son come runnin' in to tell him they was a fire in Vogel's packin' house. He dhropped th' kid at Father Kelly's feet, an' whipped off his long coat an' wint tearin' f'r th' dure, kickin' over th' poorbox an' buttin' ol' Mis' O'Neill that'd come in to say th' stations. 'Twas lucky 'twas wan iv th' Grogans.
I wish ter hell ye'd get after that tannery; can't hardly breathe here sometimes." "That's what we were looking after; had some complaints lately." "Sure, I been kickin' 'bout it for a month. You fellers have another beer on me." He walked back toward the bar, pausing an instant to whisper a word to the taller man who still stood there staring moodily at the table.
"That's so," said Smoky admiringly. "An' livin' alone puts notions o' love and tenderness into my head that never comed thar when Maw was alive an' kickin'. I tell yer, its awful lonesome on my place." He sat up in his saddle, a handsome young fellow, the vaquero rather than the cowboy, a distinction well understood in California.
Watson had cautioned him to bring home, and stared at the speaker. "What on earth do you mean?" he inquired incredulously. "Why, didn't you hear?" Coonie's tone was a master-piece of pained amazement. "Why, old Middleton's kickin' like a steer about this patriotic concert you're gettin' up. Says he bets it's another Mackenzie business all over, and he'll have the law if it ain't stopped.
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