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"We got paid." "But the bell and Moonstone Cañon?" questioned Louise, glancing back at Boyar grazing down the meadow. "Sure! Well, we flopped near here that night " "Flopped?" "Uhuh. Let's see, you ain't hep to that, are you? Why, we crawled to the hay, hit the feathers, pounded our ear er went to bed! That's what it used to be.
"Uhuh, I get you." Blair Maynard stood erect with the aid of a crutch. There was even a hint of pride in the poise of his uncovered head. And for once Lane saw the thin white face softening and glowing. Maynard's big brown eyes were full of tears. "Guess I left my nerve as well as my leg over there," he said. "Blair, it's so good to get back that we're off color," returned Lane.
"Uhuh. Well, I been keepin' clear of the sheep camps, at that." "Don't know about that," said Corliss, easily. Fadeaway was too shrewd to have recourse to his gun. He knew that Corliss was the quicker man, and he realized that, even should he get the better of a six-gun argument, the ultimate result would be outlawry and perhaps death.
You see, Collie, he's gettin' what you might call a liberated education, full of big ideas no dinky stuff. Yes, I picked him up at Albuquerque, a half-starved, skinny little cuss that was cryin' and beggin' me to get him out of there." "Albuquerque?" queried Louise. "Uhuh.
Chance and me was over to his camp, but he was gone. We kind o' tracked back there from the place where we found Fadeaway." "That so?" "Uhuh. It was like this." And Sundown gave a detailed account of his explorations. When he had finished, the sheriff made a note on the edge of a newspaper. Then he turned to Sundown. "You're either the deepest hand I've tackled yet, or you're just a plain fool.
"I understand Scott gave you a little blue roan that's a real bucker," he said. "He didn't give him to me. It was pay for some work I did for him." "Uhuh! What do you aim to do with him?" "Keep him unbroke for the Fourth of July rodeo. And, Peter, I'm going to enter my Sioux bull for some stunts." "Dangerous work, I'd say. What kind of stunts?" The young girl chuckled. "You wait and see!
Den yo' pa git wo'm up, Missy, like he do, 'case he so useter have his own way; 'tain't his fault, he jass cain't help hollerin' an' cussin' if anybody 'pose him; but Mist' Vanrevel he jass as suvvige, but he stay cole, w'ich make yo' pa all de hotter. He holler mighty strong, Missy, an' some de back ranks 'gun snickerin' at him. Uhuh!
Circumstantial evidence rider and rope missing confirmed Hi Wingle's remark that "that there walkin' clothes-pin has probably roped somethin' at last." And the "walking clothes-pin's" condition when he appeared seemed to substantiate the cook's theory. "Lose your rope?" queried Wingle as Sundown limped up. "Uhuh. And that ain't all. You ain't got a pair of pants that ain't working have you?"
Celia watched her patient as he swallowed and forgot the rôle she had assigned herself. "Is it good, Uncle Joel?" "Uhuh! Pretty fair." Joel felt for his handkerchief and wiped the moist corner of his mouth. "I'm going to taste it." Celia tilted the spoon to her own lips and sipped with appreciation.
"Ain't my dog!" retorted the ranchman harshly. "Since when?" inquired Thomas, with difficulty managing the two ponies that were plunging in fright at the antics of the snarling, snapping hound. "About thirty minutes ago." "Whose is it, then?" "This boy here." "Mine?" exclaimed Bob in amazement. "Uhuh! I ain't no use for a dog anybody else can handle." But Bob did not hear the last words.
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