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Updated: May 9, 2025
As soon as I heard the San Francisco postmastership was vacant, I made up my mind to get it and here I am." "Yes," said Riley, slowly, "as you have remarked ... Mr. Lykins ... here you are. And have you got it?" "Well, not exactly GOT it, but the next thing to it.
Riley was the most self-possessed and solemnly deliberate person in the republic. He stopped, looked his man over from head to foot, and finally said: "I am Mr. Riley. Did you happen to be looking for me?" "That's just what I was doing," said the man, joyously, "and it's the biggest luck in the world that I've found you. My name is Lykins. I'm one of the teachers of the high school San Francisco.
Lykins, I'd advise you to 'PUT UP AT GADSBY'S' for a spell, and take it easy. Good-by. GOD bless you!" So saying, Riley blandly turned on his heel and left the astonished school-teacher standing there, a musing and motionless snow image shining in the broad glow of the street-lamp. He never got that post-office.
With the better horse, Lykins was pressing Doc so close that Doc raced to the crest of a low conical hill, jumped off his mount, dropped flat on the ground and covered Lykins with a Springfield rifle, meantime yelling to him: "Duck, you little Dutch fool; I don't want to kill you"; for they knew each other well, and in a way were friends. But Billy never knew when to stop.
There was a pause and a silence except the noise of the wind and the pelting snow. Mr. Lykins said, impatiently: "Well?" Riley said: "Well, that was thirty years ago." "Very well, very well what of it?" "I'm great friends with that old patriarch. He comes every evening to tell me good-by.
Lykins against an iron fence, buttonholed him, fastened him with his eye, like the Ancient Mariner, and proceeded to unfold his narrative as placidly and peacefully as if we were all stretched comfortably in a blossomy summer meadow instead of being persecuted by a wintry midnight tempest: "I will tell you about that man. It was in Jackson's time. Gadsby's was the principal hotel, then.
Hassard stood idly, stunned apparently by a sort of white-hot work he was not used to, and received his death wound without any effort even to draw. Meantime, the firm of Lykins and Llewellyn accounted for two more before Doc's mates got out of range.
From 1878 to 1880 Billy Lykins was one of the most efficient inspectors of the Wyoming Stock Growers' Association, a short man of heavy muscular physique and a round, cherubic, pink and white face, in which a pair of steel-blue glittering eyes looked strangely out of place. A second glance, however, showed behind the smiling mouth a set of the jaw that did not belie the fighting eyes.
Lykins, I'd advise you to 'PUT UP AT GADSBY'S' for a spell, and take it easy. Good-by. GOD bless you!" So saying, Riley blandly turned on his heel and left the astonished school-teacher standing there, a musing and motionless snow image shining in the broad glow of the street-lamp. He never got that post-office.
As soon as I heard the San Francisco postmastership was vacant, I made up my mind to get it and here I am." "Yes," said Riley, slowly, "as you have remarked ... Mr. Lykins ... here you are. And have you got it?" "Well, not exactly GOT it, but the next thing to it.
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