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Updated: June 9, 2025
He's been blowin' about that gray of his for two years now and I'll match you ag'inst him for a yearlin'. And don't you forgit, boy, we're going after that black stallion up on Bronco Mesa just as soon as the rodér is over."
Talk a lot about spotty yearlin' he says is dead. Asking who kills them calf. Search me, I dunno." "Hear any talk among the boys about beef rustling?" "Uh-huh. First I hear is them sour-face asking me who kills them critter. Me, I dunno." "If you hear anything about it, Sam, let me know. Scotty thinks we done it." "Yeah. Uh-huh.
"You're still yearlin' and need some one to keep an eye on you, so's some careless son of a gun won't herd-ride you." That Dade accepted this in the spirit in which it was spoken made it possible for them to bunk together in amity. If Dade had "sized up" Calumet, the latter had made no mistake in Dade. Dade snuffed out the candle and followed Malcolm out.
The cattle-thief gasped and coughed three or four times, as if he were trying to clear his throat of something that stuck there and choked his utterance, and finally nodded his head in reply. "Don't pay no attention to him, Mr. George!" exclaimed Bob. "He don't know nothin' but stealin' an' lyin', that feller don't, an' I wouldn't trust him as far as I could sling a yearlin'."
He was the longest and most upstanding six-feet-four of proud father that Margery or her husband had ever had the pleasure of meeting. "He's got Neeter's eyes and and her complexion, but he's sure got me style. He measures up two-feet-six by the yardstick what we got with buyin' a case of bakin'-soda, and he ain't a yearlin' yet. I don't just recollec' the day but I reckon Neeter knows."
Why, only last month a set of hoss-thieves from down the river went through the Wea plains an' stole sixteen yearlin' colts, drove 'em down to the river, loaded 'em on a flat-boat an' got away without losin' a hair. Done it on a Sunday night, too." It was a few minutes past nine when Kenneth followed his host up the ladder and through the trap-door into the stuffy attic.
Soft gray hue, slender graceful neck and body, sleek small head with long ears, and great dark distended eyes, wilder than any wild eyes I had ever beheld. I saw it quiver all over. I was quivering too, but with emotion. Copple whispered: "Yearlin' buck. Shoot!" His whisper, low as it was, made the deer leap like a gray flash. Also it broke the spell for me. "Year old buck!"
Tom bent his head and blew again, gave George a sardonic grin and turned him face-down on the table, so that the ruled paper lay ready to his hand. "Right now I'm going to figure up what that dang spotty yearlin' of old Scotty's cost me," he stated grimly. "And there's some other Black Rimmers I've got a bill against." "Hope you don't try holding your breath till you collect," Belle retorted.
"Wouldn't surprise me a bit if Mart knows a whole lot more about what became of some mighty good yearlin' colts that used to belong to honest men down on the Wea," said one of the group, darkly. "I wouldn't trust Mart Hawk as far as I could throw a thousand pound rock," observed Mr. Johnson, compressing his lips. "Well, come on in, Mr. Gwynne, and slick up a bit.
And, albeit unfamiliar with plump aborigines at close range, the foreman entered into the spirit of the game and cast his vote for the present incumbent, deputizing the "yearlin'" to handle the matter. The yearling however, evidently thought it was time for a recount.
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