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I'd get a thimbleful of elderberry wine or something about every second Friday, except when I'd duck out the side door of a church and find some caffy. Here, George, foomer, foomer bring us some seegars, and then stay on that spot I may want you." "Well, well!" said Cousin Egbert again, as if the meeting were still incredible. "You old stinging-lizard!" responded the other affectionately.
A figure loomed in the dusk a man on foot who carried a rifle across his arm. Pete could not distinguish his features, but he saw that the man was tall, booted and spurred, and evidently a line-rider with the Texan. "This here young stinging-lizard says he wants to see the fo'man, Sam. Kin you help him out?" "Go ahead and speak your piece," said the man with the rifle. "She's spoke," said Pete.
Sometimes they would be called "Doc" or "Hank" or "Al" or "Chris." Nor was my companion invariably called "shellback." "Horned-toad" and "Stinging-lizard" were also epithets much in favour with his friends. At the end of this street we at length paused before the office, as I saw, of "The Red Gap Recorder; Daily and Weekly." Cousin Egbert entered here, but came out almost at once.
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