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Updated: June 19, 2025
Molly instantly exacted particulars. "The soldier should not have told the general he was killed," stated the cow-puncher. "What should he have told him, I'd like to know?" said Molly. "Why, just nothing. If the soldier could ride out of the battle all shot up, and tell his general about their takin' the town that was being gritty, yu' see.
"Pity this isn't New York, now, where there's a big market for harmless horses. Gee-gees, the children call them." "He ain't no gee-gee," said Shorty, offended. "He'll beat any cow-pony workin' you've got. Yu' can turn him on a half-dollar. Don't need to touch the reins. Hang 'em on one finger and swing your body, and he'll turn."
Didn’ ax you fu’ no ‘Mista Pierson.’ Whar yu’ all tink he went on dat hoss?” “How you reckon we knows whar he wint; we wasn’t dah,” replied Aunt Belindy. “He jis’ went a lopin’ twenty yards down to Chartrand’s sto’. I goes on ’hine ’im see w’at he gwine do.
Mister Junky is a noble lookin old man, & orter lead armies on to Battel instid of shoutin in a furrin tung. Adoo. In the langwidge of Lewis Napoleon when receivin kumpany at his pallis on the Bullyvards, "I saloot yu." I don't pertend to be a cricket & consekently the reader will not regard this 'ere peace as a Cricketcism.
And he knew that he could not make her. "Then I will tell yu' good-by," said he. "But I am comin' again. And next time I'll have along a gentle hawss for yu'." "Next time! Next time! Well, perhaps I will go with you. Do you live far?" "I live on Judge Henry's ranch, over yondeh." He pointed across the mountains. "It's on Sunk Creek.
He took to singing, and his face grew roguish to its full extent. "What made yu' say that to me?" he asked, presently. "Say what?" "About marrying. Yu' don't think I'd better." "I don't." "Onced in a while yu' tell me I'm flighty. Well, I am. Whoop-ya!" "Colts ought not to marry," said I. "Sure!" said he.
"And," said the Virginian, "if Essex's play got next her too near, I reckon she'd have stacked the cyards. Say, d' yu' remember Shakespeare's fat man?" "Falstaff? Oh, yes, indeed." "Ain't that grand? Why, he makes men talk the way they do in life. I reckon he couldn't get printed to-day. It's a right down shame Shakespeare couldn't know about poker.
That's how I figger it out," replied Hopalong quietly. "Yore a reg'lar 'tective, ain't yu?" Thirsty asked ironically. "I've got common sense," responded Hopalong. "Yu has? Yu better tell th' rest that, too," replied Thirsty. "I know yu shot Harris, an' yu can't get out of it by makin' funny remarks. Anyhow, yu won't be much loss, an' th' stage company'll feel better, too." "Shoo!
He lay propped up on the pillows, with a red scarf tied round the withered scrag of his throat, and his spotless bed freshly arrayed by his mate's mother, who lived with them and "did for" both. "They du zay as Master Peter be carting of 'ee, Miss Zairy," he whispered. "Be it tru?" "Yes, Jack dear, it's true. Are you glad?" "I be glad if yu thinks yu'll git 'un," wheezed poor Jack.
Then Hank he come in, and seein', says to me, 'Are you one of the kind that squats before them silly dolls? 'I would tell yu', I answered him; 'but it would not inter-est yu'. And I cleared out, and left him and Willomene to begin their housekeepin'. "Already they had quit havin' much to say to each other down in their tent. The only steady talkin' done in that house was done by the parrot.
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