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"Gentlemen, my guests shall remain with me while they please to honor me with their company, and I will protect them from violence or indignity with my life." "There's no mistake but you're good grit, squire, but 'tain't no use. You know what the boys mean to do, they'll do. Now, whar's the good of kicking up a shindy about it?" "No good whatever, Mr. Lucas. You had better let this matter drop.
The woodman approached the bed-side, and, observing the faint breathing which gently heaved her chest, he seemed comforted. "Whar's the wound?" asked he, in a melancholy tone. "In her side," replied Emily; "the bullet seems to have penetrated the region below the heart." "Poor gal! I'm feered it's all up with her. She has been a good woman to me."
A big, fat, full-grown, long-horned, four-year-old roll! That's what a feller wants to do 'Frisco right. Nothin' less. But whar's it comin' from, an' when? S'pose I brands a few mavericks an' gits a start on my own? No use, Kit; that's too slow! Time you got a proper roll you'd be so old the skeeters wouldn't even bite you, to say nothin' of a gal a-kissin' of you.
"An' whar's Guy Isbel?" demanded Meeker. "Daid an' buried, Abel," replied Gaston Isbel. "An' now I'd be obliged if y'u 'll hurry your folks away, an' let us have your cabin an' corral. Have yu got any hay for the hosses?" "Shore. The barn's half full," replied Meeker, as he turned away. "Come on in." "No. We'll wait till you've gone."
The golden grain poured ceaselessly through the hopper, and leaning against it was the miller, a tall, stoop-shouldered man about forty years of age, with a floury smile lurking in his beard and a twinkle in his good-humored eyes overhung by heavy, mealy eyebrows. "Waal, Steve," yelled the miller, shambling forward as the blacksmith appeared in the doorway. "Come 'long in. Whar's yer grist?"
Starbuck slowly turned his head, looked at Mose and then said to his wife: "Wall, whar's the difference, he can't tell about it." "Come atter a c c c cup o' v v v v " "Jest hold her down, Mose," Jasper encouragingly remarked, "and mebby she'll come right side up atter a while." "Jasper," said Margaret, "don't distress him." "I ain't distressin' him half as much as he is me.
Speak up! Whar's all this assorted lot of theories I been hearing in the say-loons ever since that nugget was turned up?" A man with the most extraordinarily ragged garments got to his feet and began to speak in a pleasant and cultivated voice.
Did you ever hear such a chatter! Zenas Henry is swinging that clam bucket as if there wasn't a thing in it. He will spill them all out if he isn't careful." On strode the four men. With a bound they cleared the bank before the Spence cottage and crowded in at the narrow gate. "Whar is he? Whar's Willie?" demanded Zenas Henry.
"Whar's the Red Fox?" was the significant answer. The boy's heart leaped. There had been deviltry abroad, but his kinsmen had escaped. No one uttered a word as they rode two by two, under him, but one voice came back to him as they turned the point. "I wonder if the other boys ketched young Dave?"
I should have gone straight to the bottom like a piece of lead but for the lasso. It tightened around my chest, and began to haul me up. I felt the air and the light, and opened my eyes to see Herky-Jerky hauling away on the rope. When he caught sight of me he looked as if ready to dodge behind the bank. "Whar's my gun?" he yelled. I had dropped it in the spring.
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