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Updated: June 5, 2025
Barber shook her, and stepped back. "After t'-day," he told her, "y'll work right here at home!" "Home! Home!" She laughed wildly. "Do you call this a home?" "I'll see that y' behave y'rself!" he vowed. "You'd better see that you behave yourself!" she retorted. "Because Johnnie doesn't belong to you you haven't any rights over him! And he's gone once, and he'll go again after I go!
"If this ain't a wig, y'll have a headache t'morrow," observed Miss Trimble, weaving her fingers into his luxuriant head-covering and pulling. "Wish y' luck! Ah! 'twas a wig. Gimme those spect'cles." She surveyed the results of her handiwork grimly. "Say, Clarence," she remarked, "y're a wise guy. Y' look handsomer with 'em on. Does any one know this duck?" "It is Mitchell," said Mrs. Pett.
"We're splitting the air all right," shouted the old man. "Ye mind y' talked of sawing air. Split it, man, an' y'll get somewhere." Up a hummock, down a ravine, over a fallen log with a hurdle jump that threatened to break the buckboard's back. "Are ye there yet?" called the old man.
If the railroad is only thirty miles due East, y' can make that. We'll rest a bit here, then after sundown we'll ride on; an' in the dark A'll drop back. If it hurts y' t' think of it, A'll head my horse due East for the railroad! Y'll go on, Wayland! Y'll not turn back for me!" It took the Ranger a moment to realize what the old frontiersman was trying to say.
"Careful, careful!" he cautioned, as certain expelling movements began from within, "Easy, Ham, you jam-fool, keep the door shut, y'll break me." "Now, Jerry, all heave sh'gether!" exclaimed a voice from the blackness of the interior. "Will ye wait a minute, Mr. Durrett, sir?" implored the cabdriver. "You'll be after ruining me cab entirely." Which he did, after a severe kick in the stomach.
But I 'lows the end ain't allus jest the same. Sometimes y'll find a rope hangin' in the air. Sometimes ther's a knife jabbin' around; sometimes ther's a gun wi' a light pull waitin' handy, same as mine. But I figger all them things mean jest 'bout the same. It's death, pardner; an' it ain't easy neither. Say, you an' me's pretty nigh that end. You 'special. Guess you're goin' to pass over fust.
The old frontiersman had sprung from his place and smashed his chair in twenty atoms on the table between the sheriff and the coroner. "Y'll not offend the deceased gentleman's memory? Y'll not offend his daughter here? An' the dead can't defend themselves?
Then again he turned to Cis. "You keep your hands off of me!" she warned. "If you touch me, you'll be sorry! Oh, I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!" Barber laughed. "So y' hate me, do y'?" he demanded. "And y' ain't goin' t' stay one more night! Well, maybe y'll change y'r mind! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!" Then suddenly his look hardened. With a grunt of rage, rope in hand, he swooped down upon her.
"Libel?" cried Arizona, his wild eyes rolling, and his lean nostrils dilating as his breath came short and quick. "Yes, grin; grin like a blazin' six-foot ape. Mebbe y'll change that grin later, when I tell you what he's done." "Nothing he could do would surprise me after having met him." "No." Arizona had calmed again. His volcanic nature was a study.
"Y'll be tellin' me y'r passion vows are stronger than life or death? Hoh! Y'd be a poor man if love wasn't stronger than death without any vows and big drum! Y'll be tellin' me y've warned her not t' link her life up wi' y'rs, to help y' resist an' all that; well, while y'r playin' y'r high and mighty self-sacrifice, did y'r manhood melt in the love light o' her eyes?"
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