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Updated: June 8, 2025
Geoffrey, don't you go having no trouble with Bud M'Ginnis; leave him to some one as is as much a brute-beast as he is." "But then what of Spike?" "Oh, drat him! If Arthur ain't got the horse sense to know who's his worst enemy, he ain't worth a clean man riskin' his life over for it would be your life you'd risk, Mr. Geoffrey mark my words!" "Mrs.
My, she's worth riskin' one's neck for. But, say, Dan, what are you doing out here?" "Prospectin', of course. What else would I be doin'?" "Strike anything?" "Not yet, though I've good prospects in sight, 'specially since you've arrived." Seeing the look of surprise in Curly's eyes, Dan laughed. "Yes," he continued, "I'm prospectin' in the same way that you are. I'm after Jim Weston's gal."
Solomon's face and hands were blue and he was shaking from head to foot. But his determination was unshaken. He strode to the door. "How do I get to Parker's?" he demanded. "I tell you you mustn't go to Parker's or anywhere else. You're riskin' your life." Mr. Cobb did not answer. He lifted the latch and pulled the door open.
I want it understood that I'm not an advocate of the liquor dealers or of drinkin'. I think every man would be better off if he didn't take any intoxicatin' drink at all, but as men will drink, they ought to have good stuff without impoverishin' themselves by goin' to fancy places and without riskin' death by goin' to poor places.
"Don Floristo has already given orders that the six hundred head of S Bar steers are to be driven to Mariposa to-night. I am to ride south to his ranch and close the deal. Early mañana the three loyal S Bar men will seize the cattle and drive them home. Yo' and I must help." "Yo're riskin' yore life for strangers, Kid. Floristo is a dyed-in-the-wool villain.
"Well," said Bill, "it means that this yer coach was passed through free to-night." "You don't object to that surely? I think we were deucedly lucky." Bill slowly drew off his other glove. "I've been riskin' my everlastin' life on this d d line three times a week," he said with mock humility, "and I'm allus thankful for small mercies.
He's riskin' their necks. He's goin' to find your tracks, showin' you dealt with them. Sure, he won't give them away, an' he's figurin' on their gettin' out of it, maybe by leavin' the range, or a shootin'-fray, or some way. The big thing with Jack is that he's goin' to accuse you of rustlin' an' show your tracks to his father. Well, that's a risk he's given the rustlers.
"Well, now, Marse Perkins, you mus'n be onreasonbul. Wat cud we do? We des riskin' de wool on we haids stayin' yere fer comp'ny. Ef de spook come, 'spose he tink we no business yere en des lay we out lak he kunjer yo' dawg? We des tank you, Marse Perkins, fer anoder lil drap ter kep we sperets out'n we shoon," and Jute shuddered portentously.
They finished off the men, and snaffled the sheep and as much grain as they could carry, and came back. No one fired a shot at 'em. There didn't seem to be anybody about, but the snow was falling pretty thick. "'That's good enough, said Stalky when we got dinner ready and he was chewin' mutton-kababs off a cleanin' rod. 'There's no sense riskin' men.
But you could get round his engines without riskin' your life, an', for all his blindness, I've seen him reject five flawed intermediates, one after the other, on a nod from me; an' his cattle-fittin's were guaranteed for North Atlantic winter weather. Ye ken what that means? McRimmon an' the Black Bird Line, God bless him!
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