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The result would be about the same in either case reserve units would be disorganized, and some men would have been pulled back from the front line. His dozen-odd UN regulars and Turkish partisans had done their best to simulate a paratroop attack in force. At least, his job was done; now to execute that classic infantry maneuver described as, "Let's get the hell outa here."
"Now folks, lemme just tell you a few little things. I know my limit you've got me dead to rights. I ain't complaining about that; a man in my game expects to get his, some day. But I ain't going to let the man go that paid me my wages and a bonus of five hundred dollars for every man I killed that he wanted outa the way. "Hawkins knows that's a fact.
I see he had a still on an' I didn' wanna giv 'im no stuff, so I says: 'Git deh hell outa here an' don' make no trouble, I says like dat! See? 'Git deh hell outa here an' don' make no trouble'; like dat. 'Git deh hell outa here, I says. See?" Jimmie nodded understandingly. Over his features played an eager desire to state the amount of his valor in a similar crisis, but the narrator proceeded.
"And after you've swallowed dust all the way up the track, you go with me to where the women can't see and I'll lick the living tar outa you!" Jeff swore and wheeled Skeeter toward the starting post, beckoning Bud to follow. And Bud, hastily tucking in a flapping bulge of striped shirt, went after him.
We'll be up outa reach of any trouble ourselves, if I remember that little pinnacle right." He hung the strap that held the leather case of the glasses over one shoulder, picked up his rifle and his rope and started off, with Andy similarly equipped coming close behind him.
"Stranger," was the latter's rejection, "I come into this country to make money outa the ground an' not outa my fellow critters." Breck rummaged in his boat and produced a demijohn of whiskey. Shorty's hand half went out to it and stopped abruptly. He shook his head. "There's that blamed White Horse right below, an' they say it's worse than the Box. I reckon I don't dast tackle any lightning."
"Nella," P. Sybarite interpolated in an imperative tone, momentarily distracting November's attention "Nella says to tell you she wants you now immediately. Do you get that?" "Damn Nella!" snapped the gang leader. "Tell her to go to the devil. And you" he menaced P. Sybarite with a formidable look "you slide outa here in a hurry! See?"
"You'll see me riding the ridges almost exclusively." Tex looked at her and grinned, which did not enhance his good looks, because his teeth were badly stained with tobacco. "Yo' all don't want to ride away over in them breaks toward the southeast corner," he advised. "That's a long, hard ride to make. It's too much for a girl to tackle combin' the hawses outa them little brushy draws.
"Maybe you can make 'em hear with the megaphone," he hinted, looking again at Luck. "They're riding straight up the canon, in the middle distance. They'll register in the scene, if you can't turn 'em." "Applehead!" Luck called through the megaphone to his irritated prospector. "Get those riders outa the canon they're in the scene!" Applehead promptly appeared, glaring up at luck.
There's just as good law right here as there is anywhere. I'd hate to have it go out from here that Bear Cat can't trust the officers it elects to see justice done. Don't you boys feel that way too?" "Can't we even ride him outa town on a rail? You done said we might." Mrs. Gillespie hesitated. Why not?
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