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Updated: June 16, 2025
"Here," he said, jerking the flask from its hiding-place and handing it to the hostler, "maybe you'd like that bottle of 'rot-gut' I've swore off!" "I ain't," the stableman laughed and took it eagerly. Skinny remained in town that night and the next day, waiting for Parker and the Quarter Circle KT cowboys to come in with the beef cattle. They arrived about noon.
"Darling, you wouldn't believe me if I told you how much rot-gut Scotch it took to put me under, but that filthy bootlegging hotel clerk would have charged me twice what he did for the stuff if he had known how much good it would do me." "Hotel?" Penny snatched at the vital word. "Where did you go to get drunk, Ralph?"
She's a Jonah, a Hoodoo to us all to this place. She's got rotten luck all over her and you brought her here. You needn't try an' sling mud at me fer handing them the rot-gut the boys ask for. Get that woman out of the place and things'll level up right away." The man's rudeness still seemed to have no effect. "But all this doesn't seem to fit in with with this affair to-night," the Padre argued.
He brought it in a trice, and his face beamed with honest pride as he said, holding it up between my eyes and the light, "What do you think o' that for colour and nap? Damn my bones! None of your London rot-gut, master, but honest Staffordsheer ale. Damme, you can fairly chew the malt in it." "I'll bet you a guinea I've drunk better," said I, with the aleyard at my lips.
Topham’s voice cut through the other’s thickened slur. "You soak that rot-gut out of you, and mind your tongue while you do it!" "Sure, sure, Reese—" The voice was pitched lower this time, but to Drew the tone was more mocking than conciliatory. Drunk or sober, that stranger did not hold very kindly thoughts of Topham. But that was none of the Kentuckian’s business. "Yore hat, suh."
Mam has put up with it fer twenty years, which is just twenty more than I'd stand it, and don't you forget it. When I marry a man it will be a man with sense 'nough not to pizen hisself on rot-gut whisky." Without waiting for a reply she turned away and went to bed in the bottom of the hinder wagon. Mose smoked his pipe out and rolled himself in his blanket near the smoldering camp fire.
Be not too fastidious in regard to the odor of the place, for eau de cologne and otto of rose are not exactly the commodities disposed of here, the place being devoted to the sale of that beverage classically termed "rot-gut," and eatables which, unlike wine, are by no means improved in flavor by age. There is the "bar," and the red-nosed gentleman behind it seems to be one of its best patrons.
"Yev hed a long ride, Josh," said he, leaning towards the table and clutching hold of the bottle: "try a taste o' this hyur rot-gut 'taint the daintiest o' drink to offer a man so genteelly dressed as you air this morning; but thur's wuss licker in these hyur back'oods, I reckun. Will ye mix? Thur's water in the jug thar." "No water for me," was the laconic reply. "Yur right 'bout that.
Very, like, a, whale," said R slowly. "Notottoll, my Lord, we had a bottle of ordonnory." "What's that?" asked R , a little puzzled. "Rot-gut, my Lord," ejaculated Tom, with emphasis; "and if, my Lord, a man wants to get the jandiss, I recommends vang ordonnory;" and down went Tom's fist, with a loud report, into the palm of his left hand.
He might be a blue-ribbonite; and it wouldn't do to start such a shanty for rot-gut! Again a cold wave swept over her. The absolute difference of feeling between the man and herself; his levity against her earnestness, his callous blindness to her purpose, even the commonness of his words chilled her.
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