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Updated: May 27, 2025
Here's a plug with my compliments; 'tain't poisoned. Ye needn't be afraid of it," said Tom, tossing it to him. The Britisher opened the paper and read: American Army. English Army. Seven dollars a month. 1. Three pence a day. 2. Fresh provisions in plenty. 2. Rotten salt pork. 3. Health. 3. The scurvy. 4. Freedom, ease, affluence, 4. Slavery, beggary, and want. and a good farm.
He seemed to come to some sudden resolution. "No, 'tain't lead and 'tain't nothin'," he declared contemptuously, flinging the bit he held back into the handkerchief. "Pros Passmore ye old fool you come down here and work us all up over some truck that wasn't worth turnin' with a spade! You might as well throw them things away. Whar in the nation did you git 'em, anyhow?"
"Yes, she's an odd one. Can ride like the wind, shoot like a sharp-shooter, and swear like a trooper. Is here, there and everywhere, seemingly all at one time. Owns this coop and two or three other lots in Deadwood; a herding ranch at Laramie, an interest in a paying placer claim near Elizabeth City, and the Lord only knows how much more." "But it is not a woman?" "Reckon 'tain't nothin' else."
The sky broadened into light, and the birds jeered at us, poor, draggled folk who lived in boxes and were embarrassed by the morn. The men grew nervous, for milking-time was near, and in imagination I have no doubt they heard the lowing of reproachful kine. "Well, 'tain't no use," said Eli Pike, rising from the stone-wall, and stretching himself, with decision.
"Not as I kin see," growled the other. "Leastwise, her knowin' thet much. 'Tain't likely to do her no good, whichever way the cat jumps. I reckon I'll have a smoke, Matt; I'm dry as a fish." "Same here; 'bout an hour till daylight, I reckon, Joe; pass the terbacco after yer light up."
But even so I don't guess ther's nothin' wuss than timber wolves to worry us. They're mean. Y' see they're nigh allus starvin' or guess they are. B'ars don't count a heap, less you kind o' run into 'em at breedin' season. Le's see, this is August. No, 'tain't breedin' season." He sighed as if relieved. Then he stirred quickly and glanced round, his face perfectly serious. "Guess you got a gun?
He said yo' had one of them writin' machines right into a skift. Sho! An' yo' have! The woman an' me'd jes' love to see yo' all use hit." "You'll see me," Terabon laughed, "if you'll let me sit by your stove. I've some writing I could do. Here's a goose for dinner, too." "Sho! The woman shore will love to cook that goose! I'm a fisherman but no hunter. 'Tain't of'en we git a roast bird!"
"They tell me," said that worthy matron to Alice one Sunday, after church, "that you ain't likely to teach school after this summer." "And why not?" answered Alice, conscious that she was likely to hear a choice bit of gossip; "don't I give satisfaction?" "Oh, 'tain't that," was the answer; "I guess you can imagine the reason and I want to be the first to congratulate you.
It sure won't be a picnic, but one thing is certain; we'll either get those cattle or Matlock will have to rustle a new partner." Red shifted his cud and spat unerringly on the crest of a loco weed in the trail. "D'yuh 'spose we'll meet up with Matlock there? Reckon 'tain't likely though."
I thought I wouldn't mind doin' my share of the work a bit, thought 'twould be kind of fun to swab decks and all that. Well, 'twas for a spell, but 'tain't now. I'm so sick of it that I don't know what to do. And I'm sick of livin' in a pigpen, too. Look at them dead-lights!
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