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Updated: June 13, 2025
Packin' the kid 'round that a-way shortens up Billy's booze a lot, too. He don't feel so free to get tanked expansive with Willyum on his mind an' hands that a-way. "It's shorely a picture, the tenderness Billy lavishes on Willyum.
I ain't got any use for a damn fool, no way yuh look at it." "Well, there's the TJ they been here a long while, and they ain't packin' any lead, and they ain't getting out." "Well, say, lemme tell yuh something. The TJ'll git theirs and git it right. Drink all night, would yuh?"
Meanwhile the Irishman continued to refresh himself with the bread and cheese. "Ye see it's o' no manner o' use me tryin' to help ye, my dear," he said, apologetically, "for I niver was much of a hand at packin', my exparience up to this time havin' run pretty much in the way o' havin' little or nothin' to pack.
He hustled into his clothes, went down, and opened the door. "The señorita. Ees she at home?" the man asked again. "She's down to the Boston Emporium cuttin' sandwiches an' packin' 'em," Keith said. "Who wants her?" "I have a note for her from Señor Sanders." Master Keith seized his opportunity promptly. "I'll take you down there." The man brought his horse from the hitching-rack across the road.
Just when things was clearin' off, I sez to him, usin' my biggest trump: "Spike," sez I, "do you know what they say about you?" "No," sez he, "but you know what I say about them," an' he went on with his packin'. I thought for a while 'at the year I'd spent with Spike Williams was a total loss; but jest the contrary.
"You're a thief and probably a murderer into the bargain you tried to kill this boy just before he shot you." "Well wots he?" demanded Dopey Charlie. "He's a thief he said he was look in his pockets they're crammed wid swag, an' he's a gun-man, too, or he wouldn't be packin' a gat. I guess he ain't got nothin' on me."
"You see," he began, apropos of nothing in particular, "entertainin' folks with the latest news is my long suit. I'm kind of a travelin' show, singin' and packin' the news around to everybody. 'Course folks read the paper and hear about somebody gettin' married, or gettin' shot or leavin' the country, and then they ask me the how of it.
"Take my gun take it quickly, Sally, I can't trust myself; looking at him, I can see the place where the bullet should strike home." He forced the butt of his revolver into her hands, rose, and stepped to the door, his hands clasped behind his back. "Tell me what he does." "He's comin' straight toward us as if he didn't fear nothin' grey William Drew! He's not packin' a gun; he trusts us."
And Bill added a remark to the effect that perhaps Jean had been leading a luxurious and tame life back there in Oregon, and then added, "But I reckon he's packin' that six-shooter like a Texan." "Say, I fetched a gun or two along with me," replied Jean, jocularly. "Reckon I near broke my poor mule's back with the load of shells an' guns. Dad, what was the idea askin' me to pack out an arsenal?"
If he'd tended stock instead of running about the prairie, packin' off wimmin and children, he might have saved suthin'. He lost every hoof and hide, I'll bet a cooky! Say, you," to a passing boatman, "when are you goin' to give us some grub? I'm hungry 'nough to skin and eat a hoss. Reckon I'll turn butcher when things is dried up, and save hides, horns, and taller."
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