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Updated: June 4, 2025
Old-timers from Henderson have told me a number of outfits went up last fall after the freeze-up. When I strike their trail I ought to hit her up forty or fifty miles a day. I'm likely to be back inside a month, once I get across." "Yep, once you get acrost. But it's the gettin' acrost that worries me. Well, so long, Smoke. Keep your eyes open for that hoodoo, that's all.
Angel Todd, first mate and quartermaster, filled a black pipe before answering. Then, between the first and second deep puffs, he said: "Growlin' dammum." "At the work?" "Yep, and the grub. And they say the 'tween-deck and forecastle smells o' bedbugs and bilge-water, and they want their grog. 'An ungodly witness scorneth judgment: and the mouth of the wicked devoureth iniquity." Mr.
"I'm goin' back home, though." Polly gazed at Buck in surprise. Here was a new view of the man; one she had never considered. It was strange to hear this outlaw and bad man talk of a home. The repetition of the word "home" by Polly, led him to continue: "Yep. Up to the Strip, where I was borned at. This yere climate's a leetle too dry to suit me.
So far as I'm concerned, enlisting like this with with you around, would be the happiest thing ever happened to me, but well, you see for yourself." "You mean, then, you won't?" "I mean, Clara, I can't." She was immediately level of tone again and pushed back, placing her folded napkin beside her place, patting it down. "Well, then, Sam, I'm done." "'Done, Clara?" "Yep. That lets me out.
"You've been cut out all right," retorted Polly, glancing at his legs, "whatever it's for." Parenthesis was not abashed. "Yep, fer straddlin' a hoss," he proudly replied, as if that were the chief end of man. Polly, thus balked in her teasing, tried a new form of badinage. "Say, the boys are all braggin' on your bread-makin'. Won't you give me your receipt?"
Tessibel shifted her head from Pete's neck and sat up. "Ye says as how ye and me will go to the minister?" "Yep." "And we air to be married ... eh?" "Yep." "How about the brat and and and Satisfied's girl?" Myra's secret had slipped from her. Ben's silence invited her to proceed.
The men and the woman were talking together loudly, even fiercely, and the ass was drawing his cart along the road without requiring assistance or direction. While there was a road he walked on it: when he might come to a cross road he would turn to the right: when a man said "whoh" he would stop: when he said "hike" he would go backwards, and when he said "yep" he would go on again.
They just sound like real, live people; and when you was telling about them I could just see them as plain as plain could be couldn't you, Gwendolyn?" "Yep," yawned our vis-
"Then tell us who the chap was that you were talking with tonight." "Not fer anything ye could give me," asserted Tip Scammon, with great promptness. "Oh, well, then," returned Hemingway, with affected carelessness, "Prescott can tell us the name of the chap he grappled with in that back yard." "Yep! Let young Prescott tell," agreed Tip with great cheerfulness.
Nary a one can he sell, though, for after his death, they go to the next Lord Gray. So he makes 'em make a living for him, and as they can't go on and exhibit themselves, Lady Gray sports 'em and draws down two hundred dollars a week. Yep two hundred. But do you know it isn't the two hundred dollars a week that makes me envy her till I'm sick; it's that rose diamond.
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