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Updated: June 10, 2025
"I can't fight you as an equal but I will give you one beating for the low dog you are." O'Bannon had listened immovable. He now threw the reins down and started to throw his leg over the saddle but resumed his seat. "Let go!" he shouted. "I will not be held and ordered." The school-master tightened his grasp on the reins. "Get down! I don't trust you." O'Bannon held a short heavy whip.
She may treat me as she pleases: it's all the same to me as soon as she smiles. But as for this redheaded Scotch-Irishman " "Stop!" said Peter. "Not a word against him!" O'Bannon stared. "He's no friend of yours," said he, reflectively. "He is!" "Oh, is he?
"Count it, and see if it's all there," he said, taking a short cob pipe out of his mouth and planting his other hand stoutly on his hip. "What's this for?" O'Bannon spoke in a tone of wounded astonishment. "What do you suppose it's for? Didn't I hear you've been out collecting?" "Well, you have had an advertisement running in the paper for some time." "That's what it's for then!
"Of course," said O'Bannon. "I always put that in." He was thinking impatiently about the ball and he wrote out something quickly and read it aloud with a thick, unsteady utterance: "'Mr. Peter Springle continues to carry on the blacksmith business opposite the Sign of the Indian Queen. Mr. Springle cannot be rivalled in his shoeing of horses.
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