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Updated: June 10, 2025
"It is not only a mother's book, it is a book for fathers, for all teachers of children, and also for pastors, who will be especially interested in the author's efforts to separate what Christ actually taught from the ideas which we have inherited from our pagan ancestors, and who will find in the volume abundant fresh material on the most pressing problem of our times." S.S. Times. A.H. McKINNEY
"Not for rats," said McKinney. "You'd better keep your eye on that parrot," warned Doc Tomlinson. "About to-morrow, you tell us what you find out." But on the morrow the mystery remained unsolved. "One heel's plumb gone," said Curly, sighing. "And they've begun on the toe of the other foot." Bill, the parrot, remained under increasing suspicion.
"In fact, nobody around here does. You see, Bruce, I am just plain Alec McKinney, who went to Boston when a young fellow you know that Boston, Bruce, is another name for the whole United States, on this Island and who came back a fizzle and a failure to work his father's farm. But say, Bruce," and Mac turned to me very quickly, "what brought you here, anyhow?
You can't help feelin' good to have some little ornyment like that around the place, you know, special if there's women around. But now, fellers, what I was goin' to say is, there's mice, or rats, got in on this range some how, and they " "Why didn't you put 'em in a box?" asked McKinney, severely.
"Now, we ain't downtrod none in this country," finally began Doc Tomlinson, who had made political speeches in Kansas. "Is anybody?" asked Curly, who had never lived anywhere but on the free range. "We've had three squares a day," said McKinney. "This country's just as good as the States." "States!" cried Dan Anderson.
It was supplied by McKinney, the host of the Royal Hotel of the village of Winnipeg. Three large emigrant wagons, with canvas coverings of the most approved pattern, but of very different hues, drawn each by a yoke of oxen, convey the patrons of the party, with the exception of a miner, who rides his horse.
"No, let him go on," said Curly to McKinney. "Onct over on the Brazos " "Sometimes I think you fellows are inclined to be provincial," said Dan Anderson, calmly. "Now, I'm not goin' to talk if you don't leave me alone. Listen. What does Tom Osby see in that horn that he's lookin' into? I'll tell you. He sees a plumb angel in white clothes and a blue sash.
"Well," said Curly, ruminatingly, "I don't see as ole Carrizo is frettin' any about these here things." He glanced up at the big mountain whose shadow lay athwart the valley. Dan Anderson gazed thither as well. McKinney sat looking quietly up the street. "No use frettin' about it, anyhow," said he, in his matter-of-fact way.
McKinney not being able to find me on his arrival, left the office in a great rage, swearing that he would whip me to death. A few days after, as I was walking along Main Street, he seized me by the collar, and struck me over the head five or six times with a large cane, which caused the blood to gush from my nose and ears in such a manner that my clothes were completely saturated with blood.
"Then what shall we say, man?" replied Uncle Jim. "We want to be fair with you. But let me tell you, you don't own this valley. We own it. There's other places in the world besides the States, and don't you forget that. We didn't think you'd ever try to bring States ways in here." "To hell with the States!" said McKinney, tersely. "And States ways with them!" added Doc Tomlinson.
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