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"Went down in the bottoms whar folks war a leetle too civilized an' fell in a well." "Did they git him out?" "Oh, yes, they got him out jest in time." "Jest in time to save his life?" "No, jest in time to keep from sp'ilin' the water. He drownded all right." "Ought to have drownded long ago," Jasper replied. "But I'd a leetle ruther it had tuck place befo' he got the five from me."
"It would a-broke the bad luck, sor, to have let him took the Black." "It would have broken his bank, you mean, Mike." "Well, he'll break somewan's back here yet, an' I'm tellin' you that sthraight. They say a black cat's full av th! divil, but Diablo's ould Nick hisself, though I'm sayin'it was th' b'y Shandy's fault sp'ilin' him.
Sweeping his pistol muzzle across and back again over the front of the closing line, he sprang into saddle and wheeled away. "Hit means we've brung ye back a murderer. Git yer own rope ye kain't have mine! If ye-all want trouble with Old Missoury over this, er anything else, come runnin' in the mornin'. Ye'll find us sp'ilin' fer a fight!" He was off in the darkness.
"'Don't put him up thar an' go sp'ilin' them mail-bags, howls Old Monte, as French an' a hoss-hustler from inside the corral lays hold of the Navajo to throw him on with the baggage. "'Then come down yere an' ride herd on the play yourse'f, you murderin' sot! says French.
Then the whole crowd went out to steal horses for the two men, and had them on the trail within an hour. As they rode off, Stumpy Flukes remarked: "There's a splendid shot ruined for life." "Yes," said Boston Ben, with a deep sigh struggling out of his manly bosom, "an' a bully rassler, too. The Church has got a good deal to answer fur, fur sp'ilin' that man's chances."
The man on the ground made no attempt to take advantage of the interruption; and in the next second Cousin's long double-barrel rifle was again aiming at the painted chest. "Don't go for to try any sp'ilin' o' my game," warned Cousin without looking at me. "They're scouts from a big band of Shawnees now making toward Tygart's Valley," I informed him. "Can't we learn something from them?"
Westerfelt heard them panting and grunting as they swayed back and forth, till the struggle was ended by one of them shoving the other violently against the wall; Westerfelt opened the door. A stout, muscular young giant was pinning a small man to the weather-boarding and making a pretence at choking him. "Lord, H'ram, stop!" gasped the victim; "yore sp'ilin' my necktie an' collar."
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