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Updated: May 6, 2025
None but fools would come ashore on this coast, from a wreck, widout their weepons." "Aye, an' they'll be carryin' their gold an' sich, too," said the skipper. "Lads, we'll do our best an' that bain't fightin' an' killin', i' this case, but the usin' o' our wits. Bill Brennen, tell off ten men an' take 'em along the path to the south'ard wid ye.
We discovers Jack eatin' away all right; Pickles is the other side, with his head in his tin plate, his intellects runnin' out over his eye. Jack's shore subdooed that savage for all time. "'It don't look like Pickles is hungry none, says Jack. "They both pulls their weepons as they sets down, an' puts 'em in their laps; but bein' bred across, that a-way, Pickles can't stand the strain.
He an' Kunnel Pennington leveled ther weepons on each other at a barbecue near London last Fall, but the bystanders interfered, an' prevented bloodshed fur a time." "When the war broke out, we never believed hit would reach us.
I had to own he was right in every feature, and told my wonder. "Ha!" says he, "that's nothing. Would ye believe me now, that before the Act came out, and when there were weepons in this country, I could shoot? Ay could I!" cries he and then with a leer: "If ye had such a thing as a pistol here to try with, I would show you how it's done."
“Dat ole Grammont, he got to git he gab in ef he gwine die fu’ it,” interrupted Aunt Belindy. “Grégor say ‘I don’t ’lows to kiarr no conceal’ weepons,’ an he draw nudda pistol slow out o’ he udda pocket an’ lay et on de table. By dat time he gittin’ all de money, he crammin’ de money in he pocket; an’ dem fellas dey gits up one arta d’udda kine o’ shy-like, an’ sneaks out.
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