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Updated: June 18, 2025
If Kiddie wasn't so all-fired scrupulous about truth an' justice, he'd make a passable magistrate. But I reckon his ambitions don't lie in that direction." The sheriff stood up and glanced towards his canoe. "Guess it's 'bout time for me ter think of quittin'," he remarked. "But you'll stop in camp with us to-night?" said Kiddie.
"But we'd better be quittin' out o' this," he added, with a shrug and a shiver, "for the win's tarrible, and there's a shower comin' up on us yonder as thick as thatch. I was thinkin' you'd maybe had thrampin' enough for this day. 'Twill be as dark prisintly as the inside of a cow, and we'd see daylight agin before we come to Moynalone. So we might put the night over under th'ould bridge.
For the same reason that they don't make you O. C. in this battalion, you damned fat lobster! There now, you've started me swearin' again, and I was quittin' it."
"Take shame to yerself, Mary Dolan, for yer gab of quittin', with the master and Miss Eva in sore trouble," answered the second girl. "But as you say," she continued, shaking her head, "it's a gloomy old place, and if it wasn't for Miss Eva I'd not be long in going myself." "'Ave you no loyalty?" asked the butler, turning on them both. "Hould yer jaw, Johnny Bull," threatened the cook.
The deputy thrust his head and broad shoulders in the doorway. "I'll come again soon." "Good-by, Dan, good-by for keeps, old man. I don't believe I'll be here when you come again." All the excitement was gone and the boy spoke in the quiet voice of conviction. "You're quittin' me, Dan. You don't believe me and the jig's up.
Guess when he lost his eyes th' other buck must a' been 'bout dead himself, or it 'd 'a killed him 'fore quittin'.
Influence had been used, and there he stuck, while the new officers cut him out completely, just like the others had done, so I was told, and it drifted on that way for a long time, him forever makin' an uphill fight to get his wife reco'nized and always quittin' loser.
The sheep-dog gazed up into Pete's face with bright, unblinking eyes that questioned, "Why was Pete leaving camp early in the morning and without the burros?" "I'm quittin' for good," said Pete. The dog's waving tail grew still. "That's right honest!" and Pete rose. The sheep-dog's quivering joy ceased at the word. His alertness vanished.
The postmaster spoke consciously. He expected what came, the buzz of remonstrance at his classing himself in his new office with poor devils. "You'd better talk about poor devils," growled the milkman, Tappan. "You'd better talk. Huh! here you be, don't hev to git to work till eight o'clock, an' quittin' at eight nights, and fifteen hundred a year. You'd better talk, Mr. Ray.
What do you want to make a crack about quittin' fur just as the game's gettin' good? I says. 'We cops a neat little bundle at our last stop, 'n' we'll grab a nice piece of change here. I feel it in my bones. "'All right, says Butsy. 'I'll be the goat just once more but take it from me this is the last time! "'Send a wagon fur the trunk when you get up-town, I says to Butsy when he's goin'.
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