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Updated: June 8, 2025
"Gret king!" exclaimed the darky, rubbing his ear, which had received the blow, "What yo' do dat for, anyhow?" "To teach folks to mind their own business," replied Ralph, turning to his half stuck poster again. "P'lice have you, when yo' stick dat up dar. Disher's private proputty." "Can't I stick these wherever I want to?" asked Ralph, in surprise. "Cou'se not. Better tear dat one down."
The sailor was talking in English, the waiter was talking in his native tongue, and the bystanders were trying to tell each one what the other was saying. Ned made out from the pigeon English brought forth by the bystanders that the sailor had run up a large bill and was unable to pay it. "P'lice come!" one of the officious ones said. The sailor heard the words and stirred uneasily in his seat.
"With my bare hands I would strangle her, but " "There must be no marks of violence when she is found in the river. Tchee, chee it is a pity." "Number one p'lice chop, lo!" croaked the raven, following this remark with the police-whistle imitation. Mrs. Sin turned and stared fiercely at the one-eyed bird. "Why do you bring that evil, croaking thing here?" she demanded. "Have we not enough risks?"
There was neither wavering nor mercy in the eyes of the teamster and his escort as they pressed on down the valley. One of the escort called sharply to the teamster. "Can we make it?" he shouted. "Got to," came back the answer through clenched jaws. "If we got twenty minutes on the gorl darned p'lice they won't see us for dust. Heh!" The man's final exclamation came as one of his horses stumbled.
"Seen the p'lice out your way?" he asked presently, after the weather, the crops, and the dullness of business had been exhausted as topics. "Police?" queried Norah. "No. Why?" "There was two mounted men rode out in your direction yesterday," Blake answered. "They're on the track of that Winfield murderer, they believe." "What was that?" asked Norah blankly. "I never heard of it."
"Nothin' 'bout dem neithuh," she continued in the same tone. "I don' know nothin' 'cep'n I wuz drunk. I done tole all dat down at de p'lice station." "Listen to me!" he commanded, a little pale, "You know perfectly well what I want to find out. I want you to tell me everything you remember about Perry Carpenter's actions and words last Monday night the night before last."
'Seventy-two years I've lived in this bush, girl an' woman, an' he's the finest one that ever come into it; barrin' my other son the Slugger that the p'lice bagged when he was drunk. But not apeach would he, even when they put the rope around his neck. He's the sort of a man for you to pattern by, my young one, the old woman said, turning to Roland and addressing him for the first time.
I'd been watching him a while from the box above us. I've seen enough to figger this thing's for the p'lice. We're going to put this thing through for what it's worth, and my bank roll's going to talk plenty." Bill had risen from his knees. He was standing beyond the two bodies. His shrewd eyes were steadily regarding Pap, who, in turn, was gazing squarely into the cold eyes of John Kars.
Fact is, when I saw as 'ow the murderer was supposed to be in this districk, I made inquiries amongst the men the white hands, that is and none of them had seen any such man as the papers described. I reckon 'e may just as well be in any other districk as this I s'pose the poor p'lice must say 'e's somewheres!" She glared defiantly at the downcast trooper.
But when I got the letter this morning, I says to my husband, William 'William, says I, very loud, for the poor creature's growing so deaf that by and by I shall be usin' a p'lice whistle to make him 'ear me 'William, says I, 'there is only one man in this village who's got the right to give advice when advice is asked for.
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