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"I'd hate to say you've lost your nerve, Weary," Pink cried at last, in sheer desperation. "But why the devil didn't you get down and thump the daylights out of that black son-of-a-gun? I came pretty near walking into him myself, only I hate to butt into another fellow's scrap. But, if I'd known you were going to set there and let him walk off with that sneer on his face "

"Wake up, you lazy son-of-a-gun!" shouted Neale. Larry opened his eyes. "Wal, what's wrong? Is it last night or to-morrow?" "Larry, I'm off. Got charge of a big job." "Is thet all?" drawled Larry, sleepily. "Why, shore I always knowed you'd be chief engineer some day." "Pard sit up," said Neale, unsteadily.

"Oh, but I must have a chance to get in trim," said the college man. "One week from Saturday goes," announced Stover, "and we thank you again." Turning to Carara, he directed: "Rope your buckskin, and hike for the Centipede. Tell 'em to unlimber their coin. I'll draw a month's wages in advance for every son-of-a-gun on the Flying Heart, and we'll arrange details to-night." "Si," agreed Carara.

Take up, maybe, with some Blue-grass son-of-a-gun back there? And I hated the fix I was in till that morning, getting up, I was joshin' the Virginia man that's after Miss Wood. I'd been sayin' no educated lady would think of a man who talked with an African accent. 'It's repotted you have a Southern rival yourself, says he, joshin' back. So I said I guessed the rival would find life uneasy.

"Of all th' ornery outfits I ever saw " began the man at the table, grinning from ear to ear at the spectacle he had just witnessed. "Why, hullo, Frenchy! Glad to see yu, yu old son-of-a-gun! What's th' news from th' Hills?" Shouted Hopalong. "Rather locoed, an' there's a locoed gang that's headin' that way. Goin' up?" he asked. "Shore, after round-up. Seen any punchers trailin' around loose?"

"Fine string, Blinky," said Pan, with glistening eyes. "Is that sorrel the one I can't ride?" "Yep, thet's him. Ain't he a real hoss?" "Best of the bunch, at first sight. Blinky, are you sure you're not giving me your own horse?" "Me? I don't care nothin' aboot him," declared Blinky, lying glibly. "Shore he's the orfullest pitchin' son-of-a-gun I ever forked. But mebbe you can ride him."

Colonel Hammond was killed." "Humph! And he was afraid to go with us to-night?" "Oh, he makes no secret of his cowardice." "Well, a mule is a mule, a coward is a coward, and a gambler is a son-of-a-gun," paraphrased the Chief. "If he hasn't any courage he can't force it into himself." "Do you think so?" "I know so. I've seen it tried. Some people are born cowards and can't help themselves.

Instead of which he addresses me, and I note with relief the admiration in his voice. "You son-of-a-gun," is what he says. It is a high compliment, and I thrill as a schoolboy thrills on receiving a reward of merit. "Say," I call up to him, "don't you play the hose on me any more." "All right," he answers, and goes back to his work.

This was followed by heavy footsteps, and in another moment the dining-room door was flung open. The doctor jumped to his feet. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know. "Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room. "Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast." "Aw light!"

"Wal, the fact of you bein' here, safe an' sound, sorta makes no difference who thet son-of-a-gun was," he said. "Riggs! Harve Riggs!" blazed Bo. "The instant I recognized him I got over my scare. And so mad I burned all through like fire. I don't know what I said, but it was wild and it was a whole lot, you bet. "You sure can ride, he said.