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Updated: June 14, 2025
You want to blow out, man, and trim up, get your packing set out and carry less juice. You're worse than one of them slippin', dancin', three-legged, no-good Grants. The next time I catch you at high-tide, I'll scrap you, that's what I'll do, fire you into the scrap-pile.
They crashed together, gasped and recoiled. "Oh, I'm sorry!" exclaimed Albert. "Can't you see where you're goin', you darned Portygee half-breed?" demanded Sam. Albert, who had stepped past him, turned and came back. "What did you say?" he asked. "I said you was a darned half-breed, and you are. You're a no-good Portygee, like your father." It was all he had time to say.
It seemed that where Mr. Travis was a big, bulky opener of doors, Mr. Raffin was a sleek and cultured Chesterfield a musician an artist. Where Mr. Travis could not dance without stepping on everybody in the room, Mr. Raffin was a veritable Mordkin. Where Mr. Travis hung out with a bunch of no-good crap-shooting black buck niggers, Mr.
If you could understand and talk, you would tell me where the wretch is hiding, and I would dash his brains upon the ground till they flew all over the cave. I should thus have some satisfaction for the harm this no-good Noman has done me.
He concealed a broad grin with the palm of his hand and then said, gruffly: "I answers him as such a impertinent question ought to be answered. Says I 'Harlan, you're a damned fool! askin' your pardon, ma'am. A girl like Barbara Morgan ain't goin' to throw herself away on a no-good outlaw. Not none! Why, ma'am, he's an outlaw at heart as well as by reputation.
I'd druther see ye plumb bad ern so all-fired no-good all round. Ye had jobs a number o' times drivin' eight an' ten on jerkline, freightin' tanbark from Longport. Ye're a good jerkline skinner, Hiram no better in the country but ye won't stick no more'n a month or two outa each year. "But I'm makin' allowances fer ye I always have I'm th' only one that ever has.
He could have stood that, even without much fear, for no matter how terrible the man might be in action his hands were tied in his own house; but now Kate spoke: "Vic, what have you done?" Then it came, in a flood. Hot shame rolled through him and the words burst out: "I'm a yaller houn'-dog, a sneakin' no-good cur! Dan, you're right. I've sold you.
Sandy Sawtelle savagely demanded a cup of coffee, gulped it heroically, rose in a virtuous hurry, and at the door wondered loudly if he was leaving a bunch of rich millionaires that had nothing to do but loaf in their club all the afternoon and lie their heads off, or just a passell of lazy no-good cowhands that laid down on the job the minute the boss stepped off the place.
Damn no-good squaw man get all Injins drunk on whiskey; then play poker with four aces. 'What you got? No good four aces hard luck deal 'em up!" Pete's flexible wrists here flashed in pantomime.
The huge frame of the old cattleman jerked as if he had been stabbed. His face turned purple. "What criminal?" he shouted, hoarsely. The sheriff flicked his quirt against his dirty boot, and he twisted his thin lips into a leer. The situation was agreeable to him. "Why, Bill, I knowed you hed a no-good outfit ridin' this range; but I wasn't wise thet you hed more 'n one criminal." "Cut that talk!
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