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Updated: June 1, 2025
She, Laura Murdock, with her ripe experience of the world and many adventures with men to fall in love like a silly, sentimental schoolgirl! It was too ridiculous. How the Rialto would laugh if they knew. Of course, they never would know, for there was nothing in it. The Westerner probably did not care two straws for her.
And slowly she stepped closer to say something to him; but she thought better of it. "Don't you think," she just let slip, "I've made it look at least well old?" "As only a Westerner could want to make it look." His sense of humor affectionately covered any lack of enthusiasm. "Come, Jacky," she urged at last, "I'll show you all of it before lunch is ready."
Vane!" was the answering cry, and soon the two were shaking hands. "Let me introduce a new friend, Mr. Bill Badger." "Glad to know you." "Mr. Badger helped me get back your satchel," went on our hero. "Then I am deeply indebted to him." "In that case, just drop the mister from my name," drawled the young westerner. "Joe tells me you have a mine up here.
"I'll be a regular wild westerner." "Don't do anything rash, Bet," advised Kit anxiously as she watched her friend's flushed face. "Trust me!" Bet picked up a weapon and held it awkwardly in her hand. It was the first time she had handled a loaded gun and it gave her a thrill. "Can you shoot, Bet?" asked Kit. "Do you know enough to pull the trigger?"
Clark promptly placed him in the accounting department, but to his surprise Thornton foundered there helplessly. It was one thing to keep books amid the quiet and leisure of Crescent Ranch, and quite another to struggle with columns of figures in the riot of modern business surroundings. At the end of three days the Westerner looked gray and tired, and had accomplished nothing.
One must not rush to the heart of his news or he will mortally offend the sensitive Westerner. This is the approved method. The storekeeper exemplified it, and having talked about nothing for ten minutes, quietly remarked that young Larrimer was out hunting a scalp, had been drinking most of the morning, and was now about the town boasting of what he intended to do.
Paul Hutchinson says: "It is impossible for the Westerner to conceive such an atmosphere until he has lived in it. In fact he may live in it for years and never realize the hold which it has upon his native neighbors. But it is no exaggeration to say that, to the average Chinese, the air is peopled with countless spirits, most of them malignant, all attempting to do him harm.
He asked what it cost and jingled his few coins, admitting ruefully that he'd have to wait until he uncovered his 'real mine. Just the same, he proclaimed brightly, clothes did help make the man, and inside a year when he was decked out entirely to his own liking and a tenderfoot saw him, there would be no suspecting that Longstreet was not a Westerner born and bred.
As for color, no Easterner believes in it when such men as Lungren or Parrish transposit it faithfully, any more than a Westerner would believe in the autumn foliage of our own hardwoods, or an Englishman in the glories of our gaudiest sunsets. They are all true. In the mountains, the high mountains above the seven or eight thousand foot level, grows an affair called the snow-plant.
Next to cookin' and writin' po'try, walkin' is me long suit." When a Westerner, a native-born son of the outlands, likes a man, he likes him. That is all there is to it. His horses, blankets, money, provender, and even his saddle are at his friend's disposal. If the friend prove worthy, and your Westerner is shrewd, a lifelong friendship is the result.
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